


Absent

by Pochapal



Category: Gone Series - Michael Grant
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pochapal/pseuds/Pochapal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. The critical moment approaches, and Sam and Caine fail to resist the Gaiaphage's temptation and step out. In the absence of the two most powerful mutants in the FAYZ, how will things play out now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

One minute Sam and Caine were staring each other down, palms raised, the frightened kids of Perdido Beach looking on.

The next they were gone.

Astrid Ellison screamed. Pete flailed on the sidewalk next to her. His Gameboy fell to the floor, smoking slightly. She didn't pay much attention to this.

Sam Temple and Caine Soren, fraternal twins kept separate their entire lives, had poofed at the same moment. Gone like the others that first day: the adults, the over-fifteens. Anna and Emma. Their parents.

For too many moments, Astrid's brilliant brain ceased to function. All she could do was stare at the road, lit up by moonlight and the soft glow of the street lights. A few more kids had congregated around the church. Astrid dully looked in that direction. _God, why did You see fit to take Sam from us alongside his brother? Why?_

Diana Ladris took a step towards the road, her skin ashen, her dark eyes wide. “Caine,” she said with incredulity. Briefly, her eyes met with Astrid, but both the genius and the bitch were equally as lost.  _What happens when both the hero and villain are gone?_

She'd thought she'd seen Sam's destiny. The brightest star in the FAYZ. Had she been wrong?

Pete made a noise and picked up his Gameboy. The beeping sounds of  _Pokémon_ grated on Astrid's ears. She turned to her brother and touched his wrist. He screamed like a cornered animal.

And suddenly, Astrid could see all the stars, everyone in the FAYZ. One by one, they grew in intensity until they had amassed themselves into a giant sun. It hurt her eyes but Astrid was powerless to look away. And then, a great black hole sucked up the sun and Astrid was looking at Pete again, who still screamed. Lightly, she touched him again.

Nothing.

Her brief power had fizzled out.

She let go, and Pete fell silent once more, as did his game. He continued to pound the buttons, absorbed in his own world.

“Astrid?” Astrid turned to see Lana walking up to her, her dog at her heel. “What's going on?”

“Sam's...” Astrid couldn't continue for the lump in her throat. “He and Caine, they...”

“Turned fifteen,” Lana finished. She folded her arms, closed her eyes, and sighed. A wince crossed her face. “This isn't good.”

“We need to do something,” Astrid said, but her mind was drawing blanks. _Sam is gone. Caine is gone. The two greatest powers of the FAYZ are gone._

“It would probably be best to stop the fighting,” Lana said, oddly composed. She stroked Patrick. “It was Team Caine against Team Sam, but neither of those exist any more.” Astrid looked around the plaza. Lana was right: there were Coates kids and townies alike just looking at each other. Everyone was lost.

“Then let's start there,” Astrid said shakily. Lana grimaced again. “You okay?”

“I'm...” Lana trailed off, placing a hand to her temple. “Just a headache. I need to take a breather, if that's okay. Before I get an endless train of kids wanting me to heal them.”

“That's fine,” Astrid said. Lana nodded and walked off with Patrick towards the beach. Something wasn't right, but Astrid didn't have the energy to worry about it right now.

“Angry.” Astrid looked at Pete, who seemed to be almost growling at his Gameboy. “Very angry. In the dark.”

“Don't be angry, Petey,” she said wearily. “Not right now.”

Diana approached her. “So, I guess we're equals now,” she said, awkwardly fiddling with her dark locks. A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “So much for Computer Jack figuring out how to beat the poof.” Her eyes rested on a group of boys, maybe around ten years old, with handguns. “Are we still fighting?”

“I don't know,” Astrid said.

Diana smirked. “Astrid the Genius doesn't know,” she said sardonically. “I guess this is the apocalypse.” Astrid repressed an urge to smack Diana's perfectly constructed face.

“If we want order, we'll have to cooperate,” Astrid finally said. “That means we'll have to stop everyone fighting.”

“That'll be fun,” Diana said. “They're not our people, and the leaders of the two factions faded into oblivion. It's gonna be like those playground fights for the sake of fighting, only with firearms and God knows what else.”

“You're part of the problem,” Astrid said frostily. “Don't speak as if you're above it all.”

“But doesn't it piss you off?” Diana said. “Our boyfriends tore the town up with their brawl and now they're leaving us to pick up the pieces.”

“There's nothing we can do about that now,” Astrid said heavily. “We need to focus on preventing the town from descending into madness and disorder.”

“Why?” Diana said sourly. “A big reader like you; I'd have thought getting the chance to live _Lord of the Flies_ would've appealed to you.”

“To extend that analogy,” Astrid said, determined to not let Diana best her, “imagine what would've happened if Ralph and Jack had vanished before setting that fire.”

“The convenient boat wouldn't have seen the island and the other kids would've had to survive on their own without any leader or authority figure,” Diana rebuked. “Don't try and assume that just because you get straight-As on advanced metaphysics or whatever that you're the only smart one.” She sighed. “I'm aware of the crapsack that we're gonna be plunged into as well as you do.”

Astrid felt herself bristling, but kept her composure. “So do we have an alliance?”

“Sure,” Diana said. She extended her hand. “The kings are dead. Long live the queens.”

As the girls shook hands, a blur appeared in front of them. It was Brianna, a cocky twelve-year-old redhead gifted with the power to move at impossibly fast speeds. A three-bar, going by Diana's reading system. “Whoa,” she said as she looked at Diana and Astrid. She held a shotgun. “What's going on here?”

Astrid cringed. Brianna didn't strike her as the person to approach first.  _But she'll know eventually. Get it out of the way now._ “Sam...” The reality of Sam being gone hit Astrid around the face again, and she seized up.

“Caine and Sam poofed,” Diana finished. When Brianna stared blankly, she added, “stepped out, gone, not here, turned fifteen. Wherever the adults went.”

“Huh?” Brianna said. She blinked a few times before the colour drained from her face. “No. No.” 

“Please, Brianna,” Astrid said. “We need to treat this issue with sensitivity whilst we—”

“ _They can't be gone!_ ” Brianna shouted. She said something else, but it was lost to the wind.

“Well, hope you've got a good plan,” Diana said. “In no time everyone will know their leaders are gone.”

Astrid cast her mind back to the small council meeting they held maybe eight hours ago. _Back when Sam was still here._ They'd devised a contingency plan if Sam did step out. _We said Edilio would be in charge._ She thought of the boy from Honduras and felt a weight on her chest. Governing every one of the kids inside the FAYZ would potentially cripple him. _But we all need to bear a burden if we're to survive._

Pete twitched at her side. Astrid looked down: he was still violently playing away at his video game. _Super Mario_ , if her memory served well. His face was screwed up in what could only be described as distress. Part of Astrid just wanted to take Pete and run away until this was all over, but looking over the plaza and seeing kids in the first grade with gunshot wounds brought her back to reality. _I can't let these kids suffer._

“We need to find Edilio,” Astrid finally said.

“The Mexican kid?” Diana asked. Astrid nodded, not bothering to correct her on Edilio's nationality. “Well, Caine trusted him during his brief stint of power, and Sam was close to him.”

“We'll also need a council as well,” Astrid said, suddenly aware of how exhausted she felt, “comprising the most important people in the FAYZ.” She was saying these words, knew why she was saying them, but Astrid felt oddly disconnected. _Sam. It was always going to be Sam._ “We'll need to add some Coates kids as well to make it fairer.”

“All right,” Diana said. “Of course, it'll be hard to find any decent kids from that place. Jack might be the only one.”

Suddenly Pete howled. He curled up in a ball and began to flap one arm wildly. “Petey?” Astrid said. A chill of fear struck through her. _He has power and isn't even aware of it._ And this was looking like one of his meltdowns. _Not now._

“What's wrong?” Diana asked.

“He's having a meltdown,” Astrid explained, in the same way she had done countless times before. “He's autistic, and...”

They weren't on the road any more. They were outside the church. _Petey, no..._

But before Diana could ask any damning questions, the wall of one of the buildings they had been standing close to broke down, bringing with it two figures.

Orc, the monstrous boy with stone for flesh.

And Drake Merwin, who currently had his grotesque tentacle arm around Orc's throat. He looked up to the startled and horrified kids and grinned with all the malice of Satan himself.

“So what was this about the two big boys hitting the big fifteen?”

_No._


	2. TWO

Quinn stood inside the daycare, watching as a trembling Mary Terrafino placed a toddler into a crib. Her brother John sat on a rocking chair, clutching a bag of Pampers close to his chest, blinking heavily. Edilio watched over a group of littles who had grouped together on mats, trying to sleep but mostly crying. In one corner of the room, a flatscreen TV was playing _Dora the Explorer_ , but nobody watched it.

They were all ignoring the pile of dead littles and coyotes that littered the floor. There had been a mural of cartoon characters on one wall. Now it was soiled with red splatters. A little girl lay against the wall, her throat torn open.

They had nearly all been killed by Drake and the Coyotes if it weren't for the fact that Orc had come in and brawled with the whip-handed boy. They were out in the streets somewhere; hopefully the bully was crushing the psychopath. The rest of the coyotes had fled; without their master and with their pack being gunned down, they knew when they were fighting a losing battle.

All this made Quinn feel sick. He numbly tried to ignore the one dead child with a suspicious hole in his side and the bullet shells which were everywhere. Tried to pretend that didn't exist.

“That's the last one,” Mary said, kissing the child's forehead and standing to look at Quinn and Edilio. “We lost fifteen. I don't think anyone had any fatal wounds.”

“That's good,” Edilio said. He held his machine gun in one arm, and placed the other on Mary's shoulder. “We'll get Lana to come in the morning.”

Mary looked over at John, who had fallen asleep, and then buried her face into Edilio. “This is horrible,” she said in a trembling voice. “I'm trying to keep strong for John and the littles, but how can I after this?” She pulled away, revealing her tear-stained cheeks. “I can name every kid that died in here. I promised each one I would look after them until their mommies and daddies came back.” An ugly sob broke free. “Oh my God, I hate this.”

“It'll be okay, Mary,” Edilio said softly, his accent more noticeable as he strained to remain composed. “After Sam stops Caine, we'll get through this together. I can't get us out of here, but I'll try and get some help for you. Even someone as strong as you shouldn't have to do all this alone.”

Mary just cried in response, murmuring gratitude as she gripped onto Edilio. Quinn watched awkwardly for a few moments before Mary pulled away. “Could you two watch over the littles for a moment?” she asked. “I need to use the bathroom and compose myself.”

“That's fine,” Edilio said with a warm smile.

“Thank you.” Mary quickly left, tears in her eyes.

“We need to plan for after this battle,” Edilio said. When Quinn didn't respond, he gestured to the daycare floor. “Unless we get something figured out, this won't get any better.”

“But Sam'll stop Caine,” Quinn said dully.

“No matter what the outcome of this fight, there will be casualties,” Edilio said. “The scars will remain even after this fight is done with.” He sighed, and looked sadly at a dead preschooler. “There needs to be something in place.”

“But didn't you guys have a council meeting?” Quinn asked.

“Yeah,” Edilio replied. “It consisted of battle plans and deciding I'm in charge if something goes wrong.”

“Once this is done you should probably speak to Sam,” Quinn said. He felt a surge of guilt at the thought of his best friend. _I ratted him out to Caine like a coward._

“I want to,” Edilio said. From upstairs came the sound of Mary coughing. “But the safety of everyone is more important right now.”

The air blurred and Brianna appeared. Quinn leaped back in surprise, but Edilio stood stoically. The girl's face was white. “Breeze?” Edilio said.

“Oh God oh God,” she breathed. “Edilio, it's not good. I was at the plaza when I saw Astrid and Diana and they told me that Sam and Caine had poofed so I panicked and when I came back kids were screaming and Orc was on the floor and Drake was whipping and shooting and—”

“Hold up,” Edilio said. “What was that? Sam _and_ Caine poofed?”

Brianna nodded. “And then Drake and Orc burst through. I don't know if Orc's dead but he isn't moving and Drake's attacking kids in the plaza.”

“We need to get there. Now,” Edilio said grimly. He faced Brianna. “Breeze, go find Dekka and Taylor and anyone else that can fight.” He looked at Quinn. “Quinn, you're coming with me.” Quinn was too overcome with terror to do anything but nod. _Sam poofed. My best friend left me._

John stirred. “Wha?” he said groggily, before starting awake. “What's going on?”

“Tell Mary we've gone,” Edilio said. “Drake's killing kids in the plaza; we have to stop him.”

John went white, but nodded. “I... I will.”

“Good,” Edilio said. “Stay safe.”

Quinn secured his own gun and followed Edilio out of the daycare; Brianna had already left. “This isn't good,” Edilio said as they walked around the back of the building. “If Brianna's right, then there's no one to keep Drake in check.”

“But Sam's gone as well,” Quinn said meekly. “What do we do?”

“We survive,” Edilio said simply, shrugging as best he could whilst holding the weapon. They stopped short of the plaza when Edilio said, “I should have asked Brianna to get Lana as well.”

The moment they turned into the plaza, Quinn saw pure chaos. Kids were running in fear through the debris created by Sam's fight, screaming into the night. There was a large grey shape on the floor, unmoving. Orc.

And there, in the middle of the plaza, holding a gun in one hand and choking a girl with his whip, was Drake Merwin.

Edilio muttered something viciously in his native tongue. “Quinn,” he said. “Get everyone out of here. I'll take on Drake with the others.”

Quinn didn't hesitate in agreeing; he knew he wouldn't be able to fight Drake. He lacked the courage to do so. _I'll leave that to the stronger ones._

Looking around, he saw a large group of kids standing outside the church, petrified. Amongst them Quinn spotted Astrid and Little Pete. He began running as fast as he could towards them.

“ _GUYS! WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!_ ” he yelled. Astrid, who had been kneeling in prayer, looked up.

“Quinn?” she called back as he approached. She stood to her feet, one arm protectively around Little Pete, who made a weird grunting noise in distress.

“Edilio's going to take on Drake with Brianna and the others,” Quinn explained. “We have to get out of here before the fighting starts.”

“But where to?” one girl asked. Quinn looked at her, and realised with a start that it was Diana Ladris. “If Drake's on a rampage then we'll need a second FAYZ to protect ourselves.” Quinn faltered for a moment.

“Clifftop,” Astrid said. “That's as far away as we can get easily. And there's enough room and food to fit us all for a while.”

“Then let's go there,” Quinn said. He faced the group of kids. “Come on!”

With a panicked energy, the group began to evacuate the plaza. Quinn found himself at the back, holding up the rear. His heart was hammering away, fear bubbling up. _What would Sam do? What would Sam do?_

The image of the panicked child amidst the coyotes returned. Quinn gasped and froze. _I can't do this. I'm not strong enough._ He saw the last of the kids vanish down the end of the street, but couldn't bring himself to move. _What if I've just killed them all? Oh God oh God oh God oh God!_

He couldn't breathe. An intense, agonising pressure was crushing down on his throat. Quinn made a choked gasp as a voice behind him spoke.

“Why, hello there Quinn.”

Without thinking, Brianna rushed Drake. Her speed caused him to lose grip of Quinn and careen across the street. She regained balance almost immediately and saw Quinn sitting on the road, gasping for air. “ _Go!_ ” she yelled.

From where he had fallen, Drake clambered to his feet.

Like a frightened animal, Quinn bolted.

 

\--

 

_The plaza's clear. Now we can stop Drake._

Drake lifted his gun, and fired. Brianna dodged the bullets expertly. She stuck her middle finger up at him, and zoomed back to where Edilio, Dekka, and Taylor stood.

“Did Quinn get everyone out?” Edilio asked.

“Yeah,” Brianna replied. “There's nobody Drake can hurt now.”

“That's good,” Dekka said. “Now we can take him down without causing any collateral damage.”

“So, uh, what are we doing?” Taylor asked.

“You and Breeze will distract and lead Drake to an area where Dekka can turn off the gravity,” Edilio said, “then I'll shoot him until he's dead.”

“Is there anywhere that'd be good for you, Dekka?” Brianna asked. Dekka looked at Brianna for a moment, thinking.

“The building near Orc,” she finally said. “I can use the rubble to trap him.”

“Then it's settled,” Edilio said. “Just be careful.”

“Please, Edilio,” Brianna said. “The Breeze is invincible.” _Yeah. Like a superhero. The Breeze saves the day!_

And with that, they took off. Taylor bounced out of sight, and Edilio and Dekka made their way to the other side of the plaza.

Brianna adjusted her hands, and rushed towards Drake, stopping a few feet from him. “Hey!” she cried out. Drake spun around to face her, and lifted his whip arm.

Brianna was already fifty feet away from him before the whip could even crack.

“You cocky bitch!” he roared, charging her. Brianna stood for a moment, watching as Taylor bounced in front of Drake. She flipped the bird, and was gone again. In the confusion, Brianna ran at Drake and delivered a punch.

She'd missed the mark: instead of square in his face, she'd caught his side. _Damn my short size._

And she'd been in the way of his whip.

Brianna stumbled forward and skidded to the floor, feeling the skin on her arms and legs get shredded by the road. She howled in pain. Drake laughed and struck the whip, missing her by inches. Brianna felt the air disturbance. He took a couple of steps towards her. Towards the building he had broken through.

At the last minute, Brianna leaped to her feet, and backed up, once again creating a distance between them. “So that's the game you're playing, huh?” he said. His normal arm twitched. The arm with the gun. “Let's see you dodge a bullet, Breeze.”

Taylor appeared between them.

Drake pulled the trigger.

She screamed and then was gone.

Brianna jumped to the side, missing the bullet. _Ha! Not even a bullet can stop the Breeze!_

Brianna smiled. “What was that, Drake?” she called back. In a fury, Drake ran at her again. “This again? You should know you're too slow for me.”

Drake lifted his gun again. Brianna side stepped out of the way. Right into range of his whip.

The blow was sudden and agonising.

Brianna spiralled to the floor in agony as she felt the pulsing welt across her side. “You may be faster, but I'm smarter,” Drake said smugly. He stepped towards her. Brianna was too overcome with agony to move. She couldn't think, couldn't do anything but focus on the pain that burned through her.

Another lash. This one on her leg. Brianna wailed. One on her back. She felt sick with the pain.

“ _BRIANNA!_ ”

Suddenly she was in the air.

Brianna blinked. She looked down and saw Dekka standing in the middle of the road, palms open. _She saved me_ , Brianna realised dully before the pain became too much, and she blacked out.

 

\--

 

It took all of her composure to not run at Drake and wrap her hands around his throat. _He hurt Brianna. Oh my God, he hurt Brianna._

Dekka remained scowling viciously at a bewildered Drake Merwin, letting none of this show on her face. She had to focus on keeping Brianna safe. Nothing else mattered.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Drake said. “Not.” He laughed in that deranged way that never ceased to unhinge Dekka. “Now, the real question is this: gun or whip?”

Dekka remained silent, taking a couple of steps back. _Don't provoke._

“Eh, why not both?” Drake stepped forward. Dekka looked at her feet: there were chunks of stone. _Close enough._

Drake raised his gun. Dekka froze up as the realisation hit her. She would only have enough time to either get Brianna out of harm's way, or ensnare Drake. There was a split second for her to make her decision. _My heart or my head?_

Luckily, she didn't have to make the choice.

Edilio ran past her and shot his gun at Drake. In his haste, not a single shot made its mark. He now stood between Dekka and Drake.

“Buenos dias, Mexican,” Drake said, firing his sub-machine gun.

Dekka stepped out of the way and watched with horror as Edilio's body was possessed by a violent spasm as a torrent of bullets entered him. His gun fell to the floor but still he jerked.

Dekka screamed once before she was overcome with fury.

She lowered Brianna to the ground, more sharply than she would have liked, and extended her palms in the direction of Drake whilst the sadist was occupied with Edilio.

Drake sharply rose close to thirty feet in the air before he backed out of the disabled gravity. He hit the floor with a violent thud.

She lifted and lowered him like this at least five times before he backed too far out of her range. He'd lost his gun after the second time, so with no means to attack without putting himself at risk, Drake Merwin turned and ran.

Dekka thought of pursuing him for just a moment before she saw the red staining her shoes and remembered the devastation around her.

Orc still lay in a heap, snoring softly.

Brianna was slumped over a pile of rubble, whimpering in pain. _Breeze._

But Edilio was the worst.

He lay on his back, his torso riddled with holes. An unhealthy amount of blood oozed out around him. Dekka took a trembling step towards him, her feet splashing in the puddle. “No,” she said softly. Edilio couldn't be dead. Not with Sam gone as well.

Edilio gurgled softly.

Dekka ran over to him. He strained to look up at her as a small stream of blood came from his mouth. She covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh my God. Edilio,” she said.

He was alive, but barely.

“ _SOMEONE HELP US!_ ” Dekka began to yell into the night. “ _PLEASE!_ ” With each cry she felt more and more tears spill down her face. _What is this? Why did this happen? Why did any of this happen?_

Her calls were rewarded with Taylor bouncing in. She took one look at the scene around her and screamed.

“Get Lana,” Dekka sobbed. “Get her now.”

 


	3. THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd provide a heads-up: Mary's POV section has detailed descriptions related to bulimia. If you find it upsetting, feel free to skip.

Taylor didn't show her face at either the church meeting or the town hall as the casualties of last night's battle spilled in, Astrid noted as she stood on the beach. Pete sat in the sand, too occupied with his game to pay attention to his surroundings.

Orc and Howard had started to gather the dead bodies to be buried later with the promise of being on the priority list for the now-dwindling supply of McDonald's burgers by Albert.

After last night, nobody had seen where Drake Merwin had slunk off to. They had tried to comprise a search party, but everyone had been too afraid, the wounds of yesterday too fresh.

But most worryingly was Edilio.

Lana had been working on him since last night and his condition had barely stabilised. _The next leader of Perdido Beach may not live long enough to take his place._ There were just too many bullet wounds.

As a result, Dahra Baidoo and her boyfriend Elwood had been working non-stop to tend to the countless injured kids who awaited the Healer's touch.

More kids had dumped their younger siblings at the daycare, putting even more of a strain on poor Mary.

And there was still the matter of the kids who were still at Coates. Someone needed to check on them.

But at least the fighting had stopped.

They had estimated the losses at thirty-eight. Forty if Sam and Caine were counted. Forty-one if Lana failed.

The ocean water was perfectly still: Sam and Quinn had noticed that on the first day of the FAYZ when they had helped her find Pete. It was a good thing, otherwise her brother would have been at the mercy of the waves. Instead, he could sit in that one position without risking soaking his Gameboy. Astrid dreaded what would happen if that broke. _It's the only thing grounding him._

They were only at the beach because Astrid needed some space to clear her head before they held a council meeting to decide what to do next. There were too many issues to address: how to deal with the aftermath of this, how to manage the supplies within the FAYZ, finding a way out... the list went on. And since Edilio was currently incapacitated, it fell to Astrid to take the lead. _But I won't be in charge._

Even in those few short days, Astrid had seen the strain it had put on both Sam and Caine. _One became weary. The other became mad._ And she had Pete; it would be suicide to leave him alone for even one moment.

Astrid went to her knees and began to pray. _God, I don't know if You can hear this, but if You can, please answer me: why are we being put through this tribulation? What do we do next?_ Silence greeted her.

“Astrid?” It was Diana. Astrid stood to her feet. “What were you doing?”

“Praying,” Astrid said. A few of the Coates kids had fled back to the academy after the battle, mainly the key players. But Diana had remained in Perdido Beach; she'd explained that without Caine, that place was nothing to her. “It didn't work.”

“Well, yeah,” Diana said. “I don't think God really listens to the screams of hell's damned.” There were bags under her eyes.

“Where did you go last night?” Astrid asked. After Edilio and the others had dealt with Drake, Diana had disappeared.

“Clifftop,” Diana said. They hadn't actually got there before Taylor had appeared and told them what happened. “Figured the kids wouldn't want Caine's bitch skulking the streets.” She looked at Pete for just a moment before returning her gaze to Astrid. “Then I headed into town: Albert crawled out of the woodwork and demanded I become the Coates representative on the council.”

“Really?” Astrid asked.

“I told him to piss off, but he reminded me that we're all in this together,” Diana sighed. “Besides, it might make the kids like me.” She looked away. “Or at least trust me.”

“I don't mean to offend, but you wouldn't have been my first choice,” Astrid said. “Didn't they ask Jack or Dekka?”

“Dekka's on already, as part of Sam's most trusted,” Diana said. “Jack refuses to have any part in stressful matters. So that leaves me to speak on the behalf of Coates loyalists.”

“Politics is the ugliest place,” Astrid said wryly.

Pete suddenly walked up to her, holding his Gameboy. “Angry,” he said, devoid of emotion. “Different game.”

“Petey?” Astrid said. In response, Pete shoved his Gameboy towards her. Furtively, she took it.

It felt warmer than usual, but that could be due to the sun. Astrid put one hand over the screen to see it: the title screen of a game was visible. “ _The Sims?_ ” she asked. “What's wrong with it?”

“Different game,” Pete said.

“Are you bored of it?” Diana offered.

“Angry,” Pete said.

“What's wrong with him?” Diana asked Astrid.

“I don't know,” Astrid said. “He's been like this since—”

She stopped herself. _Since he dropped his Gameboy and teleported us away from Drake._ But she couldn't say that to anyone. Sam had been the one she had trusted the most with this. Edilio as well. But without them, she was alone. How could she trust Diana enough to tell her that Little Pete had created the FAYZ?

“Since this morning,” Astrid said instead. “I think Sam leaving's upsetting him; Sam used to speak to Pete every morning and I guess it became part of Pete's routine.”

If Diana saw through the lie, she didn't show it. “Well, you're the expert,” she said. “Just make sure that if you bring him to the meeting, he doesn't interrupt too much.”

 

\--

 

Mary Terrafino's horrible night had become an even worse morning. And that morning had become a hellish afternoon.

If there were any younger siblings that hadn't been dumped at the daycare before last night, every last kid under the age of seven was there now. Some had wandered in after not being able to find their older siblings. One girl had come in because Sam Temple wasn't here any more.

Mary hadn't had the heart to turn any of them down, but with just her and John dealing with close to forty kids who were all either needy tots or lost, grieving youngsters, it was becoming hard. Edilio had promised her extra help, but after last night, it'd come off as inappropriate if she went to the council and asked.

She'd binged horribly in the early hours. Close to twenty bags of potato chips and every bar of chocolate. But before she could purge, the stream of littles had started, leaving it sitting in her stomach.

She wanted to throw up. But she couldn't leave the littles alone; John was getting some well-earned rest, so she was the only one they had.

“Mary, I can't find Josie.” A four-year-old named Ella stood in front of Mary, clutching a plush rabbit and looking lost. Josie had been among the casualties last night; Mary had no idea how she would break the news to the really small ones.

“Her mommy and daddy came for her,” Mary lied wearily. She could feel the junk food sitting in her gut, could almost imagine the fat and the calories seeping into her flesh. She burped queasily but forced herself to swallow hard. _Not now. Not when they need you the most._

As expected, Ella began to cry. “When will _my_ mommy and daddy come for _me_?” she asked.

Mary gave the child a hug. “I don't know,” she said. “They'll come when they'll come.” _If they come._

Another child came up to her; this one was a six-year-old boy. Old enough to look after himself. “I want to go home,” he said. He was one of the many that had appeared with the rising sun. “But my big sister said I have to stay here.”

“Can you make your way home on your own?” Mary asked.

He started to cry. “It's scary,” he said. Suddenly he wrapped his arms around her, but they weren't quite long enough to reach all the way around. Mary's stomach churned. _Oh God. I'm too fat for hugs._ That was too much.

“I'm sorry,” Mary said. “I have to do something for a few minutes.” She breathed deeply, fighting the urge to puke right here, right now. “If you want to stay, speak to John. You can help him with the really small ones.” _All that work on my weight is ruined. I shouldn't have eaten all that food. It has to go._

“But—” The boy tried to speak, but Mary was already out of the room, heading up the stairs.

She locked the bathroom door and knelt down over the toilet. Automatically her fingers were down her throat and she was retching into the bowl and her insides were burning and she was shaking and crying. _I'm a mess._

The sound of a kid crying from downstairs brought Mary back to reality. She forced herself to stand on shaky legs and flushed the toilet, ignoring the feeling of shame that washed over her now. _What kind of role model am I?_

But even still, Mary reached into the medicine cupboard and pulled out a toothbrush and her box of pills. A quick brush and the vile taste of puke was gone from her mouth. She opened the box of pills, but was rewarded with one Prozac. _I must have taken too many last night._ All the fear and anxiety had led Mary to finish her supply in an attempt to keep her emotions at bay. She'd need to get more. But for now, the one pill would be enough.

Mary downed the pill dry and left the bathroom, the wreck with bulimia transforming instantly into Mother Mary. _For the littles._

 

\--

 

Quinn sat on the porch of Sam's house, staring at the flakes of dried blood underneath his fingernails.

After last night, he'd wandered the streets of Perdido Beach aimlessly, feeling like an unwanted presence at both the makeshift infirmary and the town hall. That was stuff for the more important people.

Astrid had called him a hero after Taylor had announced the fighting was over. _Try telling that to the twenty tiny bodies from the daycare._

He hadn't meant to do it, but with the stress and the terror and the coyotes and Drake... what else could he have done? _You could have been better_ , a cruel voice whispered in his head. _You could have saved those littles._

The blood had come from a toddler. Quinn remembered her chubby face, brown skin, and black pigtails perfectly. _My fault._

A sob came from Quinn's lips and suddenly he was on the rooftop again, aiming the gun, trembling with fear as a whirlwind of chaos unfolded around him. His chest tightened and if it weren't for the fact that he hadn't eaten since yesterday, Quinn was certain he would have puked on the steps.

“Why did you have to go, Sam?” he finally said in a small voice. Amidst the chaos, Sam had been his anchor. Even after he had sold him out to Caine, Sam had forgiven him. _It should have been me that stepped out._

Numbly, Quinn stood up and walked up to the front door. It was open. He didn't even mean to, but Quinn was entering his best friend's house.

The lights were still on. Quinn walked through to the kitchen, his hand tracing the wall. On the wall were framed photos of Sam, some with his mom, some alone. One was with Quinn: it was Sam's thirteenth birthday, and he'd gotten that professional surfboard. They'd hit the beach together almost immediately.

And there, above the dining table was a framed newspaper clipping. It was the story of how Sam had saved their class by driving the bus to safety. _Schoolbus Sam_ , Quinn thought sadly. Even then, Sam had been the braver one, the hero.

And what had Quinn done? In the moments that invited bravery, he had freaked out and let people down. _Sam, Edilio, Mary._ The list just went on.

He found himself walking into Sam's bedroom. The closet was still wide open, untouched from when Caine and his subordinates had ransacked the place. Quinn peered inside. The ball of light was gone. He'd been expecting that.

Quinn drew the curtains and sat on the unmade bed. It was still sinking in that Sam, _Sam_ , was gone. Part of him almost felt angry that Sam had left, but Quinn knew that rage would be pointless, that it wouldn't take away the deep ache in his heart. That it wouldn't bring Sam back.

There was a noise.

Quinn cautiously walked out of Sam's room, and through the house until he saw a person standing at the doorway.

“Taylor,” he said.

She looked worse than he did: the normally bubbly girl seemed wholly deflated. Her face was stained with tears and her gaze was almost listless in nature. “Yeah,” she replied. “So you came here, too.” They both knew why they had been brought here. Regret.

“I was such a coward,” Quinn said. “I couldn't stop Drake. He... the coyotes...” His breathing grew shallow and Quinn placed a hand on the wall to steady himself, to keep himself grounded, to tell himself that he was _here_ and _now_ and not on that rooftop, not shooting on orders. “I shot a little kid by mistake.” The words tumbled out before he could stop himself.

“I panicked and left the others when they were fighting Drake,” Taylor said. “Brianna and Edilio got screwed over because I was too frightened.” She began to cry as well and sat herself down on the porch. Quinn sat next to her.

They remained next to each other in silence and shame and regret for an unknown amount of time.


	4. FOUR

“First things first,” Albert said to the council which consisted of himself, Astrid, Diana, Dekka, and Dahra's boyfriend Elwood, who had come on her behalf. Nobody had come to represent Mary. Little Pete was there, too, but he was equally here as he was in the world of his game. “We need to decide how to best deal with the aftermath of yesterday and where to go in the future.”

“I imagine electing a new leader would be a good start,” Diana said. She was leaning back in her chair. “And before you say it, Astrid filled me in on how Edilio's destined for that role.”

“Well, that is true,” Dekka said. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week. “We decided that if Sam did step out then Edilio would take over.”

“But obviously there's now a high chance Edilio might not be with us much longer,” Diana said. “And at best, he'll be incapacitated for a few days minimum.”

“But won't all you guys on the council act as leader until Edilio's better?” Elwood asked. “You know, like the government if something happens to the president?”

“Kids need a single figure to look up to,” Diana said. “Or two at most. You're less likely to maintain control if there are five people in control.” _Trust me. That's why it was only ever Caine._

“Okay, so that's obviously something we need to discuss,” Astrid said, ever the composed intellectual. “But before that: what's to report from the town?”

“Dahra's barely made any progress on the injured kids,” Elwood said. “The Tylenol supply has halved in the past twelve hours alone. She's only coping because of me and Cookie. And Lana's still busy trying to save Edilio.”

Albert began to write it down on a professional-looking notepad. “Uh-huh,” he said. “I'd also like to add that the McDonald's is out of burger patties, buns... pretty much everything but lettuce, fries, and chicken nuggets.” He scribbled something else down. “Going by the current rate of consumption, we've got maybe enough food to see us through to Christmas, provided we don't have another drop in population.” Albert's shrewd businessman façade dropped for just a moment, showing a look of discomfort before it returned. “I still need to send out a party to assess how much food there is in the houses and Ralph's, but I can tell you now that it'll be a miracle if there's any candy left in two weeks' time.”

“We'll arrange that once the injured kids have been tended to,” Astrid said.

“I saw Mary earlier,” Dekka said. “The amount of kids at the daycare has grown rapidly and she can't deal with it on her own.”

“We'll have to find some volunteers to help her out,” Astrid said.

“Or better yet, we need to get kids working in general,” Albert said. “It's only a matter of time before the town falls into disarray because too many kids spend their days eating junk food and watching DVDs.”

Diana couldn't help but laugh. _Wow. Never thought about any of this when you were coming up with your conqueror's plan, did you Caine?_ His plan had basically amounted to 'kill Sam and rule' without putting any thought into that second part. _You egotistical fool._ “Something funny?” Astrid asked.

“Nothing,” Diana said. “Just thinking.”

“Anyway, how many kids remained at Coates after Caine left to take over?” Albert asked.

“A couple,” Diana said with a shrug. “They're all either incompetent fighters or kids with powers that hid away. I don't know the exact amount.”

“We need to gather everyone in town to get an accurate population figure,” Albert said. He wrote more stuff down. “Only then can we begin to deal with the amount of food and allocation of jobs.”

“Good luck trying to get the Coates kids down here,” Diana said. “Only Caine would be able to move them.”

“So we use the next best thing,” Albert said. Diana tensed up. _You'd better not say what I think you're about to say._ “And that's why you're going.” _Crap._

“Okay, but what about a leader?” Elwood asked. “Since that's still a problem we need to figure out, I think.”

“Astrid,” Albert said simply, acting as if he had everything figured out. Astrid went to object, but he raised a hand. “Like Diana with Caine, you're the person most closely associated with Sam. The kids are more likely to listen to you than any of us until you officially announce that Edilio's the new mayor.”

“But... I... Pete...” Astrid tried to say, but her words came out as too flustered to make sense.

“It'll only be for a couple of days,” Albert said. “I doubt anything major will happen before Edilio takes over.”

Pete said, “Different game.”

Diana reached over the conference table and placed a hand on Astrid's shoulder. “I wouldn't worry,” she said wryly. “You know the saying: the king is dead. Long live the queen.”

“I suppose I could do it for a couple of days,” Astrid said, uncertain.

Albert smiled. “That's the spirit. We're all in this together.”

 

\--

 

_Why didn't it work?_

Computer Jack sat in the living room of some house in Perdido Beach, his Macbook on his lap. The screen displayed the video footage of Andrew's poof. More specifically, the frame showing the green monster Andrew had reached out to. _Why couldn't Caine and Sam resist it?_

Had it not been enough? Was there something more to it than just saying 'no'? “Did I overlook something?” he whispered aloud.

He hated it. His whole life, Jack's reputation had been built upon his genius. So many times had he avoided a nasty situation due to his brains, be it something as simple as doing a bully's homework for them, or bypassing a school's firewall. _Or trying to figure out how to beat the poof._

Maybe it was his power. It sounded right; a three-bar gift of strength must have done _something._ _Brains and brawn don't go together_ , Jack thought sadly.

Perhaps as he got stronger and stronger, he would get dumber and dumber. The thought made him feel ill.

The laptop made a noise. Jack glanced at the screen to see a low power warning. _Well, yeah. Ten-eighty video rendering does that to the battery._ That gave him comfort as he searched for a plug socket. He still knew his computers.

He eventually found a plug socket upstairs in one of the bedrooms. It seemed to be a teenage girl's room, going by the boy band posters, the prom photo on the dresser, and the iPhone charger in the wall. Jack unplugged the charger, plugged in his laptop, and sat on the bed. The room smelled of perfume, and he couldn't help but feel incredibly self-conscious as he continued to study the image.

Carefully, Jack zoomed in. Andrew was definitely reaching out, with a smile on his face. The creature obviously did something to convince you to step out. _But what? What would ever make you trust something like that?_

Maybe Astrid would know. She probably had a million other ideas that Jack wouldn't ever be able to come up with. He knew he should go to her, but every time he thought about that, he also thought about how he failed to tell Sam how to beat the poof. _She must hate me._

Not that it mattered. Knowing how to resist the temptation didn't do Caine any favours. A thought then came to Jack. _What if it didn't work because two people poofed at the same time?_ Jack knew of the twins, Anna and Emma, who had poofed on the same day. But they had nearly fifteen minutes between them. Sam and Caine had just over a minute.

He needed to find out if it was because two people stepped out at the same time that it failed. And to do that, he needed to find someone whose fifteenth birthday was coming up soon. _Who's next?_ He knew Diana was in a couple of months, and Mary Terrafino's was Mothers' Day, and Albert had nearly six months to go, but nobody closer. _No. There has to be someone._

The rumbling sound of an engine caught Jack's attention. Instinctively, he closed his laptop. At the same time, the doorbell rang. Was it the owner of the house? _Oh God, what if she finds out I was in her room?_ Jack thought as he descended the stairs, blushing.

He stopped by the front door, and opened it.

Instantly his blood turned to ice.

“Jack, I need you,” said Drake Merwin, languidly moving his whip arm around. “I've got a little problem that I kinda need to solve eventually, and you're the only one who can help me out. You're gonna finally find out how to beat the poof, and tell me.”

Jack took a nervous step back. Drake coiled his whip around the twelve-year-old's throat. The pressure was instant and agonising. “Oh, and by the way, I don't intend to fail like Sam and Caine did. And if you think of refusing, I'll whip you until there's nothing left to whip. Do we have a deal?”

Overcome with sheer terror, Jack nodded.

 

\--

 

Brianna found him lying next to a hole in the ground, smashed beer bottles strewn across the area. The backhoe was unmanned, no sign of its temporary operator. He groaned softly. She zoomed over to the hole, looked in, and understood why.

To say that Orc was unjustified in getting smashed after filling a hole with a dozen dead preschoolers would be wrong. Brianna felt a flash of sickness looking at it, then a flash of sympathy for the strange stone boy, then a flash of anger towards Howard, Orc's faithful toadie, for leaving him like this. _That weasel._

“Howard?” Brianna spun around. Orc was now sitting up, looking around groggily.

“He's not here,” Brianna answered. “It's me, the Breeze.”

“Breeze?” Orc said. He reached down to his side to presumably grab a bottle of beer that didn't exist. He then looked at her. “Where's Howard?”

Brianna shrugged. “Probably the same place Taylor went. Somewhere to abandon their friends.” As she said that, she winced. Lana hadn't managed to see her yet, so she had to make do with bandages and as many painkillers as Dahra could afford to part with. They'd all looked at her funny when she walked out with such grisly wounds. But she couldn't let them best her.  _It'll take more than Drake Whiphand to take out the Breeze._

“Maybe he went to get more beer,” Orc said. “What time is it?”

“Four thirty,” Brianna said. “Ish. I've been running around town for a little while, so it might be later.”

Orc swore rather loudly and overtly. “It was one when we put the prees in the hole,” he said. A look of guilt crossed his face, something which seemed uncharacteristic of a stone monster who had been a bully in his past life. “I couldn't bury them. God, they was all so tiny and stuff. It made me feel sad.” He belched and buried his face in his hands. “Where's Edilio when you need him? I want to go home and drink.”

“Lana's trying her best,” Brianna said. She'd seen Lana when she'd left the infirmary; the Healer looked like she hadn't slept in days (which was probably true) and she kept running her hands over Edilio's body, occasionally muttering to herself, and only pausing to look at her dog, who was great at keeping the wounded kids' spirits high. “Edilio's in a bad way. It's a miracle he survived.”

“Isn't there anyone else who can do this?” Orc moaned. “Why is it me that's gotta do it?”

_Because you're a bully and a thug who needs to be kept busy._ “You're the only one that's strong enough,” Brianna said, beginning to feel awkward as Orc continued to sit in a puddle of glass and booze, making no effort to move.

“Astrid and Albert said it was an important job,” Orc said. “But I'm not an important person. Why would an important person have to bury dead little kids?” He groaned. Brianna suddenly wanted to leave. “I'm just an ugly, dumb monster.” _Well, you're not wrong._

Orc finally rose to his feet, covering his one human eye and attempting to mask his sobs. This just made Brianna feel uncomfortable. _I'm the fastest thing in the FAYZ. Not a babysitter for a drunk bully._ She continued to try to think of a way out, until she noticed a figure at the far end of the plaza.

“Breeze?” It was Dekka. A large smile crossed her usually stoic face, and she rushed over to her. “You okay?”

Another wave of pain. “Yeah,” Brianna lied. “The Breeze is indestructible.”

“That's a relief,” Dekka said. “Any news on Edilio?”

“Lana's still working on him,” Brianna said. “I don't know.”

“Oh,” Dekka said. She then looked at Orc, who had tried to compose himself. “Finished burying the bodies yet?” Orc didn't answer. “Where's Howard?”

“I need a drink,” Orc announced and stormed off.

“One day without Edilio and this place goes to ruin,” Dekka said, watching as Orc vanished down a corner. “We need him back.”

“Hey,” Brianna said. “What's going on about that? Since didn't Sam make Edilio the leader if he stepped out?”

“He did,” Dekka said. “But Albert saw fit to temporarily give the position to Astrid.”

“Albert?”

“He called the meeting,” Dekka explained. “And he does have a certain amount of influence, giving that he's the only one that's bothered to take inventory. Plus, he runs the McDonald's, and that does make him practically Jesus in the eyes of some.”

“So I didn't miss much?” Brianna asked. Another wave of pain raced through her side. She shrugged it off, and when Dekka gave her a concerned look, she said, “Dahra's good, but she's not the Healer.”

“Just take it easy, will you?” Dekka said. “We don't want you getting any more hurt than you already are.”

“Oh, sure,” Brianna said wryly. “The Breeze, the fastest in the FAYZ, will take things at a slow pace.”

“You know what I meant,” Dekka said. “Don't be reckless.”

Brianna was ready to deliver a witty retort when there was suddenly a scream.

They looked at the far end of the plaza to see a short boy with spiked-up black hair sprinting down the road, crying. Water was pouring from his palms.  _Someone else with the power?_

“Hey,” Dekka called out. “You all right?”

The boy ignored her, and kept running down the street. Towards Pacific Boulevard, by the looks of things.

“Something isn't right,” Brianna said.

Then, from the same direction, came another boy on a bike. He had shorn brown hair that had grown in a little since the start of the FAYZ, and a round, upturned nose. If he wasn't so thin, he maybe would have resembled a pig, Brianna observed. He was also shouting. “Your freak powers broke my phone! Get back here, mutant!”

Dekka clenched her fists. “Jesus,” she said. “Please, not this on top of everything.”

“What do you mean?” Brianna asked. Dekka looked at her. A look of hesitancy crossed her face, but it quickly hardened.

But before anything could be said, the cycling boy reached into his shorts. Pulled out a handgun. Shot it.

The short boy fell to the floor with a soft thud. The water quickly washed away the blood. He never left the plaza.

“Hate.” Dekka said the word so simply, but four letters had never carried such gravity to Brianna.

 


	5. FIVE

It had taken maybe five minutes for Dekka and Brianna to apprehend him and lock him in a disused room in the town hall (Brianna protested that if she'd been at full strength it would have taken half the time). A further two to alert all the members of the council. And twenty for Astrid to walk across town to reach the prisoner, stopping to leave Pete with Mary.

He went by the name of Zil Sperry. Astrid highly doubted that it was his real name. _I suppose it's a little less ostentatious than the Breeze, or Whiphand, though._ But it would do.

The boy he killed was called Flint. Only ten years old. The entire time Astrid had been making her way here she had been asking herself the same question over and over. _What kind of person would kill a younger kid so easily?_

But as Astrid looked through the window of the door, she wasn't surprised. He was stick-thin, with pasty skin, shorn brown hair, and wore a white tank top with grey basketball shorts and off-brand Nikes. _All that's missing is the snapback and we have the archetypal douche ensemble._ Zil was currently staring out of the window, ignoring Astrid outside. His facial expression seemed more irritated than anything. _No remorse._

The room was flanked by two boys named Bradley and Roscoe. They each had a nightstick and pepper spray, liberated from a police car on the highway. They sat next to one another, eating from a thirty-two piece box of chicken McNuggets, courtesy of Albert. _There's only so long we can bribe kids with fast food._ Albert's inventory warning hung over her head like a storm cloud, just waiting to burst open. _There are more pressing issues, Astrid. One thing at a time._

She'd theorised that a rift between those with and without the power would eventually arise. In fact, it was an inevitability. _When one of two groups has more privilege, there will always be resentment._ But the fact that it had come so soon worried Astrid. _Sam's only been gone for a day and things are already becoming fragile._

Nobody had seen Orc or Howard since Brianna found the larger boy passed out, wasted. Mary was struggling under the pressure of dealing with twice as many littles. And Lana was still unable to help the injured kids, focusing so much on keeping Edilio alive. _And then there's the problem of Drake Merwin, lurking somewhere._ When Sam had initially left, it had felt as if some looming countdown had stopped; a breather amidst the turbulence. But now, there was another, much longer countdown, ticking away the minutes until the pot bubbled over.

“Do you know anything about what happened?” she asked the boys, having sorted out her thoughts.

“Some kid had this power to make water come from his hands,” Roscoe said, his mouth full. “And he soaked Zil's phone and broke it, or something.”

“Zil was pissed and chased the kid and shot him,” Bradley said more simply. Then, dryly, he added, “At least it was next to the other dead kids.”

“I see,” Astrid said. So maybe not a hate crime, as Dekka and Brianna had painted it, but a dispute turned ugly. _Murder is murder, though._

“What are you gonna do about him?” Roscoe asked. He shifted the box; Astrid saw Zil's gun in his lap.

“We'll hold a trial and punish him accordingly,” Astrid said. “He won't get away with this.”

“You mean like how Orc wasn't punished for killing Bette?” Bradley added, sounding more accusatory than he probably intended. Still, it stabbed her like a dagger of ice. She wanted to argue that it was Caine that had denied justice, but there was that time when Caine wasn't in power, when they could have pressed charges. _And why didn't we? Because he was useful in a fight? Because we pitied his stone mutation?_

Maybe even Astrid harboured preferential treatment towards those who weren't 'normal'. _Was it because I had the power, even if it was only for a little while?_ But that power died the night Sam left. _I've lived in both worlds._

“We were still scared and confused back then,” Astrid said. Back then. Like two weeks ago was a lifetime back. “We hadn't established any rules about how to deal with criminals. We were inexperienced at authority.” She felt incredibly awkward talking to these boys on her own. _Where's everyone else?_ “This time around, things will be done properly.”

“Uh huh,” Roscoe said. “If you ever need a guard, I'll be happy to help.”

“Until we run out of McDonald's food,” Astrid said bitterly. “I'd like to see you watching over the next prisoner six months from now, when we're out of junk food to pay you with.” Roscoe seemed hurt at her remark. Astrid flushed. _Not his fault. He's just some kid who doesn't know any better._ “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be short like that; it's just—”

“Astrid!” Astrid spun around to see a boy with light brown hair and wide eyes running down the hallway. She recognised him as Hunter; he was a grade below her, but his proficiency in Spanish had put them in the same class. From what she knew of him, he was a fairly laid-back kind of guy who liked watching sports with a pretty wide taste in music. Currently, he looked as if he'd run the length of the FAYZ.

“Hunter?” she said.

“Look,” he gasped, stopping a few feet in front of her. “Zil's my friend. Please, don't give him the death penalty or something.” Astrid eyed him curiously. “I know he beat that kid up or whatever—”

“You do know that Zil murdered Flint, right?” Astrid said. Hunter paled immediately. “He shot him twice with a handgun.”

“What?” he whispered incredulously. “But he said he was just gonna teach the kid a lesson about his powers...” Astrid felt pity; he looked like he was going to throw up. “Oh my God.”

“I'm sorry,” Astrid said. “But that's the truth. I know this wouldn't normally happen, but normal has crashed and burned.” _The FAYZ will make monsters of us all._

“No, man...” Hunter sat down against the wall, opposite Bradley and Roscoe. “No way...”

Something burned inside Astrid. _Council or not, I have to do this now._ “Open the door,” she said. “I'm ready to speak with him.”

Roscoe hurried to his feet, dropping the empty box on the floor; he kept hold of the handgun. _A thirteen-year-old with a lethal weapon,_ Astrid thought. _And the true madness and desperation hasn't even hit yet._

Astrid stepped aside as Roscoe opened the door. Immediately Zil turned to look at the door for the first time. Upon seeing Astrid, an ugly smile crossed his face. “Astrid the Genius,” he said venomously, jumping to his feet.

“Zil,” Astrid said coolly. _Act like those crime documentaries you used to watch, Astrid._ “You are aware you are being detained for the murder of Flint, right?” From the window came the golden shine of the setting sun. _Focus on what's in front of you._

Zil scoffed. “Murder?” he said. “But I didn't kill a human.” Astrid couldn't control the look of shock that crossed her face. The scrawny weasel seemed to take delight in it. “You heard me right. Those freaks, with the powers? There's nothing human about it.” _Maybe I underestimated the rate the cancer of bigotry grows at._

Astrid violently fought the urge to retaliate, but knew that it was what he wanted. _Don't get on that soapbox. Remain above it._ “I am not here to have a philosophical discourse on the anthropological legitimacy of those with mutations,” she said instead. “Do you admit you used a handgun to shoot Flint?”

Zil shrugged. “I guess I did,” he said. “Freak deserved it. Soaked my phone. Destroyed my property. I was only defending what's mine, given that the freaks tend to enjoy destroying things.” Astrid winced. He had a point there; they would never fix up the damage caused by Sam and Caine's conflict. _Fear doesn't justify murder. Nothing does. Unless you're a six foot tall fourteen-year-old with stone for flesh, then you're let off the hook._

“Your personal beliefs do not matter,” Astrid said, struggling to remain calm. “In the eyes of the council, those with mutations are seen as human. Ergo, you have taken a human life.”

Zil stepped towards her, invading her personal space with ease. “You gonna hand me the verdict now?” he said. His breath reeked, like he hadn't brushed his teeth since the FAYZ came. “Without a trial? So you can get it done with quickly and go back to wishing Sam Temple was still here so you could screw the freak some more, you stupid little—”

Astrid slapped him. Right across the face. He reeled back in pain. Her body shuddered with anger. _Way to be professional._

“You bitch,” Zil growled as his face became a deep red. He looked at Astrid with murder in his eyes. A flash of fear darted through Astrid.

And then Zil was on her. He slammed her into the wall, his hands around her throat. Astrid struggled, but he had the advantage. Her head spun from the impact, making it hard to focus. But a primal urge to survive kicked in.

She raised a hand, but Zil pinned it against the wall. The pressure sent waves of pain through her wrist. Astrid cried out. _Please, no._

“Freak sympathiser,” Zil growled. “Sub-human.”

Her throat was too constricted to form words. Her body felt weak. _Asphyxiation. It cuts off the blood to your brain, weakening you and making your body less responsive._

The corners of Astrid's vision were beginning to black out. Panic now truly began to set in. _I'm going to die. Oh God, I'm going to die._ Her mind flashed to Pete, sitting in the daycare with his Gameboy. _Without me, Petey will be alone. He'll die as well._ Things were turning fuzzy.

And then, as sudden as it had started, Zil let go of her.

Astrid gasped for breath, and staggered forward. Dully she realised someone was wrestling with him, but her vision and thoughts were too blurry to make anything out. _I'm alive. Not dead. That's all that matters right now._

She leaned against another wall as the blood returned to her head and the room came into focus.

There was a shout, followed by two gunshots.

Astrid blinked harshly as a surge of adrenaline returned her to her senses. _No._

She rushed out of the room, fearing the worst. As soon as she walked through the doorway, her shoes splashed in something. Her stomach flipped as she looked around the room. _Oh my God, no._

Bradley and Roscoe lay dead in a pool of blood. Roscoe was pale and bloody, but Astrid could see a bullet hole in Bradley's head. Small chunks of what could only be brain were on his clothes and in the McDonald's box. She wanted to throw up.

Hunter was standing against the wall, white as a sheet. A bruise was forming around one of his eyes. Tears fell down his face. He trembled. “Zil took the gun,” he whimpered.

And that was enough for the guilt to hit Astrid like a sledgehammer. _I did this,_ she realised. _If I'd just waited for the others to come, this wouldn't have happened. And now another killer will walk free._ She looked down the hallway, seeing the bloody footsteps leading to the door. _Unless I stop him._

“Do you have any idea where he could have gone?” Astrid rasped. Her throat burned, but it paled in comparison to how she felt on the inside. _Two boys are dead because of me._

“He yelled something about killing all freaks and left,” Hunter said, his voice breaking. “I don't think he'd go back to the house we're using. He might do something stupid.” _More bodies._

“It's probably a given,” Astrid said. A sudden image of Zil storming the daycare and shooting Pete assaulted her mind. “We need to stop him before he kills anyone else.”

“But what if he attacks us?” Hunter said. “I know we were friends, but I don't think that matters to him any more.”

“I...” Astrid began, hesitating. “I'll look for him. You just find the other members of the council, then hide somewhere safe.” _Don't shed any more innocent blood._ “Can you do that?”

Hunter nodded sheepishly. “I... I think so,” he said.

“Then let's go,” Astrid said. “Before Zil kills anyone else.” _Petey._

They ran through the hallways and out of the doors into the streets. The setting sun painted everything a deep gold. Everything looked idyllic and tranquil, but Astrid was trembling with fear. _I've let a dangerous, bigoted killer loose. Who knows how many more I've condemned?_

“Look,” Hunter said, pointing to the far end of the plaza. Astrid saw a couple of figures: Elwood, Brianna, Dekka, and Albert. _The council._

They were running up to them as quickly as their legs could carry them. Dekka immediately saw the distress on Astrid's face. “What is it?” she asked.

“Zil,” Astrid breathed. “He broke out, vowing to kill all mutants. He has a gun.” She conveniently left out the part where she had opened the door, practically breaking him out herself.

“He killed the two kids on guard,” Hunter said listlessly, overcome with terror. “Oh my God. My friend's a killer.”

“We've got bigger problems than some jumped-up bigot,” Brianna said.

“What?” Astrid asked. “What's going on?” _Is this why nobody showed up?_

“Computer Jack's missing,” Dekka said. “His computer, as well.” When Astrid didn't respond for a minute, she added, “The computer with the research on how to beat stepping out.” _Oh no._

“And there was this as well,” Elwood said. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a scrunched-up piece of paper. Astrid took it, and read it. Her heart dropped instantly.

 

_Hey assholes,_

_I'll be borrowing your pet nerd for a while. I need him for something only he can do. And we're not fourteen forever._

_Don't come looking for us, because if I see any of you, I won't hesitate to kill you and torture Jack until he's my unquestioning slave._

_Love Whiphand (AKA Drake)._

_< 3_

 

“Oh God,” Astrid said. The world felt like it was spinning. “No.” _Not this as well._ This was too much. _Not now. Of all times._

“Well, you're currently in charge,” Albert said. “What do you suggest we do?”

It was at this point that Astrid realised that they could only deal with one of the two problems. _Which is the right choice?_

Then came the not-so-distant sound of gunfire.

And the screams.


	6. SIX

_It'll be second nature once you get the hang of it._

This was what Diana told herself as the SUV she drove crawled along the highway in the evening light. She was maybe half a mile out of town, and four times the engine had stalled.  _This was never my job._

When he had been around, Caine had always driven. She guessed it was because it gave him a sense of power and superiority. Looking back on it, only the more important kids at Coates had learned to drive.  _That's what you get when you're nothing more than arm candy for a sociopath._

She hadn't minded at first, not really. It had seemed like a skill that was, to be honest, useless for her to acquire. Why bother? There were hardly many places to visit, and there were more important things to do than drive a sedan around and around an empty parking lot.

But of course, like many things in Diana Ladris's life, this way of thinking had come back to bite her in the ass. If Caine was still around, he'd probably be smugly smirking at her incompetence. But not as much as Drake Merwin would have. It was pretty evident to anyone with eyes that way before he had even set foot in Coates, let alone obtaining his whip hand, Drake Merwin was a psychotic, unstable head case.  _If he could see me now. God, he'd—_

The vehicle shuddered and the engine whined before Diana came to a stop. She slammed her hands against the dashboard.  _Damn it._

_Why can't I drive this damn thing?_ Frustration more than anything coursed through Diana's veins. She'd always made a show of being the most superior one in the room, yet she lacked the ability to back up what she said.  _Caine did that. Or Drake would try and kill someone and my bluff would be forgotten._ Groaning, Diana started up the engine again and crawled along the highway.

It wasn't her fault for adjusting to such a fragile status quo. She'd picked the winning team, and bailed when the team lost. There was no real loyalty to the Coates cause, only self-preservation. Okay, and maybe the feeling of Caine's lips against hers as they held onto each other in the dark corners of hallways when they should have been in class was also a perk.  _It was lust. Not love. Never love._

She could feel the car shuddering again.  _No,_ she told herself. Without really thinking, Diana's hand went to the gear stick and shifted it. It seemed to work.  _Definitely get driving lessons from someone when you get back to Perdido Beach._

Diana looked behind her for a moment at the slowly growing light of Perdido Beach. From this distance it was hard to imagine that it was a town governed by under-fifteens. Almost like she could just turn around and drive back into town and see middle-aged soccer moms ushering their kids to school, or college drop-outs hanging around the back of the grocery store, or even elderly couples walking hand-in-hand along the beach, their wrinkled skin breathing in the sunlight. But Diana knew better than to delude herself with such fantasies.

No matter what she did, the adults were gone. It was an indisputable fact. Set in stone.

But her own life wasn't.

It had been sheer luck that Astrid had been there when Caine and Sam stepped out. If Diana had been alone, she would have had no choice but to run away with Drake. The thought of being stuck with that monster made her sick to her stomach.  _I guess you have some good fortune at least, Diana._

This was a test of loyalty more than anything. A win-win way to see if Diana was truly on the Perdido Beach side: if she was, she'd come back to them with a bunch of Coates kids. If not, then she wouldn't return... and the problem would be dealt with before it even arose.

Diana couldn't help but smirk. The council truly saw her as a potential threat.  _Without their precious Sam, they're nothing more than frightened children._ Frightened children that offered the best prospects for her future, though.

Without Caine, Coates was nothing. In all fairness, it was never anything in the first place.  _It's like if Hogwarts was actually juvie,_ Brianna had put it once after her powers were discovered. The last thing she said to Diana before Caine and Drake plastered her.

No point filling herself with guilt over things she had no power to change. The past was nothing but a weight that was trying to drag her down. Sink or swim. And Diana planned on swimming.  _Let's go round up some kids._

Before speeding off down the road, Diana spared Perdido Beach one last glance for a while.

_Huh. There's smoke._

 

_\--_

 

“Hear that?”

“Sounds like shouting.”

Quinn and Taylor sat on the steps that led down to the beach. Taylor had found a six-pack of beers from somewhere, but four cans were missing.

Quinn had vehemently opposed at first, but after some goading from Taylor, he'd taken a couple of sips. Once it gave him a pleasant buzz that made some of his shame and guilt float away, he'd decided it wasn't so bad.

Quinn was a big guy, so the booze hadn't done much but make him feel better about things. Taylor, however, was considerably smaller and the two cans she'd downed had done a number on her.  _Lightweight._ The word came bubbling up from the depths of Quinn's mind; he remembered it being thrown around when he and Sam had hung around with those older kids a couple of years back who'd smuggled a bunch of alcohol from their parents' houses. That time, Quinn didn't bother with it, deciding it would be more fun to catch some midnight waves. Mostly he was afraid of getting drunk.

But if this was what drunk was, then he felt kind of silly for avoiding it.

Taylor, on the other hand, was feeling the effects more acutely. She swayed on her hands, looking up at the sunset. A relaxed yet goofy smile was plastered on her face.

But neither of them was wasted.

“Maybe something's going down,” Quinn suggested, but he felt no concern. He just felt a warmth in his gut and a pleasant sense of disconnection. _Fourteen and drinking_ , a voice whispered to him shamefully, but he shrugged it off.

“What's it matter?” Taylor said, albeit with much more slurring. “I'm not gonna involve myself if it just means people _bitch_ at me for getting frightened of...” She paused for a moment, staring intensely at a spot in the sky. Quinn followed her gaze and discovered that if you tilted your head at just the right angle, the pearly glow of the FAYZ barrier could be seen. “... _Freakin' monsters._ ”

“I feel you,” Quinn said. “How's it that if you're feeling totally normal fear, you're seen as a coward?” He cracked open another can and swallowed. “But if you're insane enough to stand up to monsters like Drake, you're a goddamn hero?”

Taylor shrugged and nearly lost her balance. “I dunno,” she said, grabbing the last can and taking a big gulp. “It's not like it's  _our_ fault we can't all be super magic light-hands Sam.” She hiccuped as the booze hit her gut. “Well  _sorry_ that I can't just open my palms and...  _burn_ all my problems away.” Frustrated, Taylor waved her arms, catching the can in her hand. Both Quinn and Taylor watched as it rolled down the steps, stopping in the sand.

Taylor snorted and started to giggle. “I know how you feel, bro,” she called to the can as a thin stream of beer tricked out onto the beach. She laughed some more.

Quinn couldn't help but smile as well; Taylor had a kind of bouncy giggle for a laugh that was highly infectious without meaning to be. “You're ridiculous,” he said. “Now we gotta find more.”

“Nu-uh,” Taylor replied, shaking her head. “We still got some.” She smiled mischievously.

“What d'you mean?” Quinn asked, realising a second too late what she meant. “Oh, don't you—”

Without warning, Taylor leaped forward and made a grab for Quinn's can. He lifted his arm up at the last minute, so she just careened into him, sending the two of them sprawling into the railings put in place to prevent people from falling onto the sand below. The two of them began laughing incredibly loudly.

How long had it been since Quinn felt this happy?

Since the coming of the FAYZ, Quinn had lived in a constant state of fear, and the shadow of Sam. In fact, before the FAYZ, it had always felt this way. Sam had done better in class than him. Sam was better looking and had more girls crushing on him. Sam was a better surfer than him.

His entire life, Quinn had felt like he was playing second-fiddle to Sam Temple. It wasn't Sam's fault that he was so perfect. It was just the way things had always been. And Quinn liked to believe he'd been a good friend – he never made issue of the small pit in his stomach that was reserved exclusively for envy. Plus, Sam had never drawn attention to his superiority; he wasn't that kind of guy.  _Don't lump Sam in with your toxic thoughts._

Quinn Gaither's best friend deserved that much, at least.

He was brought back to reality by Taylor rapidly moving her hand in front of him. “Uh,  _hello_ . Earth to Quinn?” She was still leaning over him with that stupidly goofy grin.

“Sorry. Spaced out,” he replied, and realised a beat too late that the can was absent from his hand. “Hey!”

“Snooze you lose,” Taylor said with a wink, downing the rest of the can. “God. Did that sound as Brianna-like as I think it did?”

“Does it matter?” Quinn asked wryly, and for some reason this was enough to set Taylor off into some kind of hysterical laughing fit; he couldn't tell if it was the product of the booze or merely Taylor's quirky, bouncy nature.

A sudden gunshot seemed to pop the hyped-up bubble both currently existed in.

The familiar icy chill of fear ran through Quinn's veins, but it just didn't seem to match with the warm glow of the drinks. Kind of like when hot and cold water came together and you were in the middle of it and it felt like a weird  _nothing._

Fear and drinking were never made for one another, Quinn decided.

“That was kinda close,” Taylor said, making a deliberate effort to enunciate her words as she climbed off him. She tried not to show it, but Quinn could see a flash of panic in her dark brown eyes. “Something's definitely going down.”

“I'm sure the council can handle it,” Quinn said. “Whatever it is.” When Taylor still seemed unnerved, he smiled warmly and added, “The worst it'll be is Orc on a bender.”

“You're right,” Taylor conceded. “Still, it's gonna get dark soon, and if the crap's gonna hit the fan, I'd rather not be anywhere near it.”

Another gunshot. Louder shouting. Almost to the point where Quinn could make out what was being said, if he strained to listen. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I don't wanna get caught up in this.”  _Whatever 'this' is._

“The house I'm staying at is only a couple blocks away, over on Grant Street,” Taylor said. “We could go there for the rest of the tonight.” Then, realising her drunk blunder, “ _Th_ _is evening._ ”

“I'm in,” Quinn said, using the railing to steady himself to his feet. Taylor merely flexed her hands, and _pop_ she was at the top of the stairs. Not for the first time Quinn became conscious of his absence of powers. _What does it matter? People with powers always get roped into fighting._ He wasn't a fighter.

It only took him a couple of seconds to reach Taylor; drunk or not, Quinn still had some muscle strength from countless hours involving a wetsuit, a board, and the endless stream of waves that would crash onto the shore. “Hey, you're cheating,” he called out to Taylor a little louder than he would have liked. “No bouncing.”

“Suck it,” Taylor said and bounced out of sight, reappearing a few feet down the road. Only instead of landing with coordination and grace, Taylor lost her footing and fell back onto her ass.

“Seems the drinks are affecting _someone's_ control on their powers,” Quinn said slyly as he caught up with her.

“Shut up,” Taylor said, leaning on Quinn as she steadied herself to her feet. “I swear to God if you—”

She suddenly froze up. Quinn followed her gaze down the road and with the feeling of a lead weight slamming into his stomach, saw  _why._

A scrawny boy somewhere between Taylor and Quinn in terms of age was running down the road, appearing to have veered off from San Pablo Avenue, breathing heavily and coated in blood and holding a gun.

The pleasantly tipsy buzz both Quinn and Taylor shared shattered as the kid looked right at them. “Hey!” he yelled at them in a voice that was on the precipice of the awkward cracks of puberty. “What the hell are you moofs doing looking at me?”

“Moof?” Taylor echoed quizzically as he approached with a swagger that betrayed a violent temperament. Every impulse was screaming for Quinn to get the hell out of here.

The boy was now up in Taylor's face, waving the gun around threateningly. “Yeah. Mutant freak. Moof.” He seemed incredibly self-satisfied with the wordplay that Howard would have no doubt spat on. “Gonna need a word to describe you sub-human trash.”

Taylor bristled, the booze giving her a false bravado that made Quinn concerned.  _Yeah, he's kinda being a massive douche, but he's got a gun._ “Excuse  _me?_ ” Taylor snarled. “I don't know who the  _hell_ you think you are, but I'm not taking this  _crap_ from  _anyone!_ ” She went to deliver a punch but the boy lifted the gun and pulled the trigger in one swift motion.

Taylor screamed and reflexively twitched her palms.

And she and Quinn were suddenly on the roof of a house on Pacific Boulevard which Quinn only knew because they could clearly see the water of the marina reflecting the golden glow of the setting sun.

Taylor was on her knees, staring in bewilderment at her hands.

And deep down, Quinn knew that something had just happened that hadn't happened before.

 

\--

 

“Different game.”

Mary sighed wearily at Little Pete who sat cross-legged on a play mat with his Gameboy. Astrid had apologised for the difficulties Pete might bring with him, but Mary hadn't been expecting  _this._

After Astrid had left, Pete had waddled over to the bright red mat and sat down with his game, unmoving. He didn't eat at snack time; the  _Finding Nemo_ -themed apple juice carton remained untouched; he remained stoic and unmoving during nap time, and not once had Pete made a move to go potty. All he did was press buttons on the console, and mutter “angry”. And if it wasn't that, it was “different game”. That was it.

It was akin to having a vegetable the size of a five-year-old occupy a space of the daycare. That should have been a relief, but it wasn't because Little Pete was not a vegetable; he was a child like any of the other littles currently roaming around the daycare, and Mary had promised to take care of him whilst Astrid was dealing with council issues. She was feeling stressed because she simply  _couldn't_ do anything for the kid.  _I don't know the first thing about childcare, never mind autism._

It probably didn't help that Mary had eaten a couple of gross, greasy,  _fatty_ fish sticks in order to convince some of the more fickle littles to eat up and it was making her feel terrible inside.  _I have to look after these kids, but I can't go packing on the calories like this._

After the incident this morning, Mary had sworn off eating during the day when the littles were awake and needed her, lest she did what she did again. Maybe once Mary got the helpers she desperately needed and the chaos of the daycare was more manageable she could go out and get some more meds to hopefully control it.

But until then, she would just have to ride it out.  _And ignore ignore ignore the fish sticks digesting in your gut and the calories and fat being absorbed and—_

No.

Mary took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, surveying the daycare. It was getting pretty late and quite a few of the littles were sleeping in piles of blankets appropriated from somewhere. John was in the kitchen preparing the bottles of baby formula for their nightly feeding. The few littles that were still awake were mostly watching one of the many Disney DVDs Mary had found on the shelves; a couple were playing with the arts and crafts table close to the sheet of tarp that sealed up the ugly hole in the wall, and the remaining few were engaging in some exciting pretend game, but were beginning to tire out.

This time of day, from seven until nine at night, was the calmest period barring any unforeseen cataclysmic events. But that could change in a heartbeat. All it took was for one kid to begin to cry, and Mary would be dealing with close to fifty wailing youngsters pining for their mommies and daddies and everything Mary silently cried about herself in the privacy of her own bed in the dead of night when nobody could see her.

It would do no good if Mother Mary was an inconsolable wreck.

She smoothed over her expression and walked over to where two boys were making  _pew pew_ noises with hands poised to mimic guns. “Let's keep it a little quieter for everyone who is sleeping,” she said to them.

“Sorry Mary,” one of the boys, a small plump boy with dark brown skin and distinctly Indian facial features, said. He was four years old. His name evaded Mary, but this seemed to happen a lot more as the number of kids in Mary's care grew. The other boy, considerably thinner and paler, but overwhelmed with freckles and a nose that just seemed a little too large to belong on a preschooler, rolled his eyes but ultimately nodded in agreement.

“That's good, boys,” she said in that warm, nurturing, maternal voice she used around the kids. “If you want to keep playing, you can use the small playroom.” In reality, it was a tiny space consisting of one window and an exposed light bulb hanging from the ceiling just out of Mary's reach. It would have made a good place to help with distributing the sleeping kids each night, but they all preferred to pile together in the main room with the toys and colours and activities and the lack of solitude. The adults who had run this place had planned on decorating and breathing life into the room, going by the open email Mary had found on a laptop on the first day, but obviously that didn't happen. “If not, you can play with the arts and crafts table or go watch _Lilo and Stitch_ with the other children.”

“Angry,” Pete said from his mat, still not looking up from the Gameboy. He lacked volume control of his voice and as such the word echoed around the daycare for a moment, startling any kids who were still awake.

This seemed to cement the boys' decision. Both scurried off to the second playroom before Mary could even blink.  _At least it's another problem solved._

“Angry,” Pete said again, this time louder. “Different game.” He had dropped the Gameboy to the floor. His hands were twitching and he looked around wildly, as if seized by some primal fear. _Oh, no. Please keep quiet. It's too early in the evening for this._

Mary took a step towards him. “Pete—”

—And found herself in complete darkness. _The power's out._

“Mary?” She couldn't see, but she could hear John rushing in from the kitchen. “What happened?”

Before Mary could reply, one of the kids began to scream. It was a high-pitched shrill cry of distress, but it was too dark for Mary to see.

And then, the lights began to glow dimly again. Mary stood there in a confused daze as they increased in brightness until they were back as they were a few moments ago.

It took her ten seconds to notice the small girl floating in the air, palms outstretched.  _Oh God, no._

“Mary,” John said from behind her, his voice a warble of distress. “Mary, what's happening?”

The girl looked at Mary, and a name came to her head.  _Bella._

“Bella, honey,” Mary said, trying to ignore the fact that a four-year-old was _floating_. “Bella, are you okay?” _She has the power._

“Mary?” Bella said in a high voice, her thick black hair floating around like she was caught up in a gust of wind, even though there was no breeze. “I'm scared!”

Mary took a step towards Bella, but that was it. The moment she took a step forward, Mary felt a sudden blast of air.  _Please. No._

It was a fat boy with olive skin who was tall for his age and shaggy dark brown hair. His hands were outstretched and powerful gusts of wind were emitting from them. The tarp covering the hole in the wall flapped wildly and crudely-drawn images were ripped off the walls.  _No no no no no no._

“James,” she said clumsily, feeling like she had stepped into some nightmare.

A girl to her right turned invisible.

Some thick oily substance began to drip from one boy's hands.

One of the babies was glowing a brilliant shade of yellow.

Mary screamed.

 

\--

 

Astrid moved down the road like the world was ending.  _It might as well be, for all that's happening._

Computer Jack had been abducted by Drake Merwin. Nobody knew where they had gone. Zil Sperry had killed three kids so far and was loose with a gun, harbouring some kind of personal vendetta against those with mutant powers. And they were still recovering from the fight that had resulted in both Sam and Caine stepping out and Edilio being grievously injured. Which, by extent, put Lana out of action until she was certain Edilio would live.  _Too many misfortunes occurring consecutively._

Dekka walked beside her, her face grimmer than normal. A look that was somewhere between haunted and furious was in her eyes. She caught Astrid looking at her, gave her a fleeting glance, then looked away, almost guilty.

She had refused to send Brianna out to locate Jack and Drake, obviously concerned for the Breeze's well-being following last night. Brianna was their best bet at finding where Jack and Drake were, and Brianna herself had actually volunteered, but you couldn't really argue with Dekka's logic.  _Sending an injured twelve-year-old out to find the most dangerous person in the FAYZ would never be the best idea._ So Brianna had stayed, and like that, they'd decided to deal with Zil first. This was a decision that burned with guilt for Astrid that she had to fight to ignore.

They were desperate. That much could ascertained. Sam and Edilio were the most competent leaders, but the former had stepped out and the latter was in a critical condition. So it had fallen to Astrid to hold Perdido Beach together based on the sole merit of being Sam's Girlfriend, capital G. A role that would remain until Edilio had recovered, at least.

She'd tried to head to the library and read up on things like governing a population, but they had mostly been heavy and verbose tomes that chronicled academic opinions on each presidential era, or the reigns of old monarchs. They had nothing about how actually to  _run_ a place, unless she wanted to go for the insane totalitarian ruler angle which amounted to her taking all the wealth and resources of the town and killing any dissenters. She wasn't well-versed in politics or the government, but even Astrid knew that would be wrong. _So this is what it feels like to be running in blind._

She wasn't sure why she had come along with Dekka, Brianna, and Elwood. Albert had remained back at the town hall to keep things running smoothly over there, or so he said. Astrid knew fear, so she couldn't judge him.  _But sometimes guilt is stronger than fear._ Guilt was why Astrid was hunting down Zil along with the others, despite her lack of combat prowess (even Elwood knew his way around a gun). It was the guilt that rose up when Astrid thought about Zil's scrawny hands around her throat, the sound of the gunshots, and the two dead bodies in that hallway, chunks of brain in the McDonald's box. That guilt drove her forward.

It might be the same reason why Hunter had also tagged along with them; he, too, was probably grappling with the guilt that he couldn't stop his best friend from going off the deep end.  _I couldn't stop Sam from losing that battle on his fifteenth birthday._ Guilt seemed to hang in the air like a rotting stench that permeated every aspect of Astrid's soul.  _But now's not the time to get hung up on guilt._

They looped back from Sheridan through to the town square again. Their method of attack had been to scout out the streets for Zil systematically. The major issue was that they couldn't really use Brianna; she had only been in Perdido Beach for a few days, but Zil had been born and raised in this town. He knew every last corner like the back of his hand. Brianna could do a quick sweeping scan of the streets, but if Zil had tucked himself away in some corner, she would never be able to find him.

“That's another one empty,” Dekka said, pausing to wipe at the sweat on her forehead. The scar she had received from her plastering stuck out clearly in the diminishing light. “Where else can we check?”

“The beach front,” Elwood said, looking uncomfortable as he held a gun. “We haven't checked the apartments, either.”

_The apartments._ They were mostly occupied by retired citizens, or young couples. Astrid's chemistry teacher had lived there, she remembered. But it wasn't really a place that the youth of Perdido Beach frequented, so she didn't really know much about the place beyond the basic observation of there being taller buildings in the distance. There weren't any lights on, so Astrid guessed they were unoccupied.  _Probably locked._

“He'll probably go to the beach,” Hunter added warily. “Zil never really liked the apartments. He was paranoid by the security cameras there.”

“Why?” Dekka asked. “He a delinquent?”

“You could say that,” Hunter said. “He once got caught by the police for writing graffiti on the walls of one of the buildings.” This didn't surprise Astrid in any way.

“You seem like a good guy,” Brianna added. “How did you end up being friends with him?”

“We liked the same sports teams,” Hunter said, as if that explained everything. “It was kind of a big deal when we were, like, twelve.”

“Uh-huh,” Dekka said. She looked at Hunter, but her expression revealed no strong feeling either way. Still, Astrid noted the way Hunter seemed to shrink away in shame, like _he_ had wronged. “I just have one question, Hunter: would you object if we kicked his ass?”

Hunter shook his head. “No, he...” He paused. “I mean, it's only right for what he's done.”  _Toning down the vengeance_ , Astrid observed.  _Hunter's obviously not accustomed to the conflicts of the FAYZ._

“That's great,” Brianna said with a cocky smirk. “In that case, the Breeze can seriously get to work!”

“You're still first and foremost Brianna,” Dekka said with a sigh. “Don't forget it.”

Brianna went to respond but Elwood cut them off. “Hey,” he said. “So where are we deciding on checking out next?”

Two things then happened nearly spontaneously.

The first was that a loud bang came from somewhere to the south.  _The beach_ . That was all Astrid managed to think.

The second thing was that the windows to the daycare exploded.

Astrid leaped back involuntarily as the glass flew into the air. It was only when the shards were still flying in a straight line across the length of the plaza did she think something was wrong.

It took Dekka cancelling out the gravity to stop the glass from embedding itself in Elwood. The taller boy seemed visibly relieved.

“What was that?” Brianna asked.

“Something's going on in the daycare,” Dekka said. “We need to go.”

As Dekka restored gravity, placing the glass on the road, a visible strike of lightning lashed out from the broken window, setting a small clump of grass ablaze, followed by what could only be described as a howling cyclone of wind that nearly knocked Astrid off her feet. Hunter steadied her and said something.

But Astrid wasn't listening. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears as she stared at the mess that was the daycare.  _Petey._

Something had happened. Something abnormal. Something that only her child-god of a brother could do.

Then came the stream of screaming littles from the front of the daycare. High-pitched trills of terror filled the early night air; Astrid felt this terror resonate with her own.  _Petey._

Without even thinking, Astrid began to walk forwards. “Hey!” Dekka said, placing a sturdy hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

_Trying to prevent another disaster._ “Pete's in there,” she said in a voice that seemed smaller than usual. In that instant, Dekka's face softened.

Then she tackled Astrid to the floor as a bright golden light appeared in Astrid's field of vision.

It was a baby, no more than six months old, levitating in the air as a ball of fire surrounded it. Dekka made a cry as the infant floated over them, leaving behind heat and the smell of smoke.

Dekka rolled to the floor the instant she could. Astrid saw that the back of her shirt had been burned through along with a few layers of flesh. Dekka swore.

“You can't say cusses.” As the two girls stood to their feet, Astrid noticed a boy covered in what looked like oil. The black fluid was pouring from his hands, creating a puddle wherever he stood. “Mother Mary says it's bad.” He lifted a hand to itch his head, sending another thick black rivulet down his face.

“It's the power,” Astrid heard Elwood say from somewhere behind her. “Oh my God, these kids have the power.”

For just a moment, Astrid was too stupefied to comprehend why there was such terror in Elwood's voice. And then she  _knew_ .

The oil. The fire. It was a catastrophe waiting to occur.

“Jesus,” she said, not caring that she was taking the name as a curse. _Unless You're going to appear and divinely fix this situation, You're a lost cause._ If God truly had a presence in the FAYZ, it was minimal.

“Astrid, oh my God, Astrid.” Suddenly Mary was there, her hair a mess, and bags under her eyes that were visible even in the fading light.

“Mary,” Astrid said. There was shock etched into Mary's face. “What happened?” _Don't be Pete. Please, don't be Pete._

“The power,” Mary said. “It's the power.” To her credit, Mary managed to go a whole fifteen seconds before crying into Astrid's shoulder.

Astrid tentatively hugged Mary back. “You need some rest,” she said firmly. And then, with a spike of fear, “Where's John?”

Mary looked up at Astrid. “Alive,” she said. “Mera, when she... he got burned.” Another ugly sob flew free from Mary's mouth. “I failed the kids, Astrid.”

“You did nothing,” Astrid said. “Nobody could ever have accounted for this.”

“We'll get to work rounding them up once this crisis is dealt with,” Dekka promised.

“Crisis?” Mary asked, then looked at the kid dripping oil. “Oh.”

“We need to get him to stop,” Dekka said. “If he keeps leaking oil, the entire town will be burned to a crisp by morning.”

The boy looked up at Dekka inquisitively as she spoke. “No,” he said.

“I'm sorry?” Mary asked, crouching down to get on the boy's level. “Kevin, what do you mean? Don't you want to stop all this nasty oil?”

Kevin shook his head. “It's the game we're playing now,” he said in a voice utterly devoid of any emotion. Astrid turned to ice.

_Angry. Different game._

“H...how's...” she breathed, feeling the world spin.

“Pete's fine,” Mary said. “All the chaos spooked him, but he's settled down again. Still on the mat playing his game.”

“Good,” Astrid said before she could stop herself. “That's... that's good.”

Not really though. Astrid knew that somehow, Pete had done this.  _Is this the new game, Petey? What does this even mean?_

It was a question that existed beyond her current scope of knowledge. Something that filled her with a bizarre sense of fear that made her want to push away everything and just run until she didn't have to think about anything any more.

She started breathing again. _One problem at a time._

“Kevin?” Mary said. “Kevin, where are you going?”

In the lull, the small boy had wandered off; he was currently spreading oil all across the plaza, as if driven by some invisible force to keep moving. Astrid had a terrible vision of a Gameboy, a screen, and a small boy with blonde hair mashing buttons.  _No._   


Kevin had stopped in the middle of the plaza. “Mera!” he shouted. “Mera!”

The baby, who was currently close to a hundred feet in the air, began to descend. Like a lantern in reverse.

“Mera! Come play the game!”

With a sickening lurch Astrid realised what was going to happen.

Brianna's name was on her lips as Mera made contact with Kevin. The boy was consumed by a sudden rush of flame that erupted high into the air.

Much, much later, Astrid would look back on this moment and curse herself, curse everyone, for letting the name Zil Sperry be forgotten.

At the same time, the world around Astrid blurred as Brianna moved everyone out of the way of the oil trail. They came to a stop outside the town hall. Herself, Dekka, Hunter, Mary, and Elwood. Brianna sat on the floor, panting for breath. Behind her, the fire snaked along the oil trail, having successfully burned up the two littles.

Astrid suddenly realised what had just happened and felt like throwing up.

Elwood had seen something else. “It's gonna go straight to the daycare,” he said in panic.

“My brother,” Mary and Astrid said in near-unison.

Brianna was on her feet. “Where are they?” she asked.

“The main room,” Mary said. “If you can save them, _please_.”

Astrid dared to look at the fire that burned brighter than anything she had seen.  _Not quite. Not as bright as Sam's light._

They maybe had a minute before the flames reached the daycare.

Brianna blurred and was gone. Astrid felt Dekka tense up next to her, but she didn't, no,  _couldn't_ , pull her eyes away from the fire.

The blinding, distracting fire.

A full forty seconds passed before Brianna returned holding an unconscious John Terrafino. Mary ran over to her brother and held him tight the instant he touched the ground.

Astrid very nearly told Brianna to leave her brother to the flames, but Pete was by her side before the words could even be formulated.

Brianna collapsed to the floor, exhausted.

Even now, Pete's eyes remained firmly fixed on the Gameboy.

Astrid looked back at the fire.  _It's nearly there. Oh God, it's nearly there._

And the daycare  _exploded_ .

 


	7. SEVEN

“Well?”

“N… no.”

_Crack._

Computer Jack screamed as another lash struck him. His shirt was in tatters, hanging on by some miracle. The fabric was stained a deep red. _Blood. My blood._

“What do you mean, no?” Drake Merwin asked. He languidly rested the whip on Jack’s shoulder. Jack couldn’t help but begin to shudder.

“I… I mean there’s still nothing I can see,” Jack said. “He sort of just... reaches out and... poof.”

“ _Poof_ ,” Drake repeated, drolly. The tentacle tightened itself, and Jack fought back a panic attack. “You know, that answer isn’t gonna cut it.”

“I… I know,” Jack said. _Breathe. Breathe._

“You also know what you should do next,” Drake continued. The tentacle twitched another inch closer to Jack’s throat. A horrific whimper came from his lips. “Give me the right answer.”

“Y… yes, Drake,” Jack replied. He was crying again. The whip retracted. “I just need some more time.”

“Don't push your luck,” Drake said.

Jack wanted to scream at this moment. _You don't poof for months,_ he thought, but wouldn't dare say it. Not when he was in a situation he was powerless to escape.

 _Not quite,_ a terrible voice whispered in his ear as he looked down at the laptop with a suspicious dent beside the touch pad. _You could crush Drake Merwin like a fly if you wanted._

But he knew that wasn't going to happen. _I'd rather die than use my strength._

It was weak. Weak and pathetic.

Jack looked out of the window at the bruise-coloured sky. Drake had taken an RV and driven them out to the middle of the desert. Jack's laptop was slowly sapping the power from the vehicle. He knew it wasn't much – you could charge your phone and computer from a car for days – but if he took too much power, then the RV would be rendered immobile.

From somewhere outside, a coyote howled.

If that happened… it wouldn't matter if Jack managed to get away from Drake. _I wouldn't make it through the desert._

Another sob broke from his lips. Drake cast him a suspicious glance.

“I'm… I'm fine. I'll be fine,” Jack said. He looked back down at the laptop and studied the screen like his life depended on it.

-

Quinn was still on the rooftop with Taylor when the explosion happened.

The flash, accompanied by the rumble, was enough to make him him scream.

For one terrible dragged-out moment he thought the world had ended.

When Taylor pointed out the massive cloud of smoke and fire spreading out over Perdido Beach, Quinn could only stare with an open mouth.

-

“Caine's _what?_ ”

Diana groaned as she stared down at Bug. The creepy ten-year-old's eyes were wide as he reacted to her news. Even so, the shock didn't seem to stop him from sparing quite a few lecherous glances at her breasts. _If he goes any further I'll break his nose._

“Yeah. He and Sam poofed. It was big and dramatic and everybody cried,” Diana deadpanned. “Astrid and Albert tasked me with rounding you guys up and bringing you back down to Perdido Beach.”

“Why should we?” Bug replied. “I don't want to put up with another leader.”

“If you don't then you can't return to Perdido Beach again. There's only so much food at Coates,” Diana said. “Look, Bug. You're a creep, but be smart, okay?” She didn't mention that if she failed then she would be exiled as well. _Gotta keep some cards up your sleeve._

More kids were beginning to crawl from the woodwork. Diana looked up at the dorm windows and saw faces peering out. Maybe the front entrance wasn't the best place to do this, Diana realised with painful retrospect.

“What about Drake?” one girl asked. She sat on the steps outside the front door. “Where is he?”

“The hell if I know,” Diana said. “I'm good so long as he's not near me.”

“So he's alive?” a boy called from a window. Fear laced his tone.

“Maybe. That's pretty low on my priority list,” Diana called back.

“Jesus,” said a girl with red hair who looked like a lankier version of Brianna. Diana looked around and quickly realised she had an audience. Most, if not all of the Coates stragglers were surrounding her. Reflexively she patted the handgun in her pocket. _A gun means nothing if your opponent has mutant powers._ She had to remain calm.

“I don't see why that matters,” Diana said. “Nobody's seen Drake since the night of Sam and Caine's disappearance. Hell, he could have poofed himself for all we know. Could be that he was lying about his birthday and stepped out early.” That was a lie. _April twelfth, just one minute after midnight._ She'd memorised it to get a rise out of him. And after the FAYZ had hit… well, there was no forgetting it now.

It was November twenty-third. Drake Merwin would continue to terrorise the FAYZ for another five months at least. _If nobody figures out how to beat the poof._ She didn't even want to think about her own birthday.

“Maybe,” a kid said in response.

“He's not important, anyway,” Diana said hastily. She didn't want to think about that psycho for any longer than she had to. “Look. If any of you want to be able to enter Perdido Beach, you've gotta head back with me tomorrow. Albert and Astrid's orders.”

“Why should we listen to you, Diana? You were just Caine's slut.” Diana didn't even bother trying to find which little asshole said that.

“Because...” She hesitated for just a moment, before remembering what Caine had told her once. _Sometimes it's worth exposing some of the truth to get people to do what you want._ “Because if nobody comes down, _I'm_ banished, too.”

That seemed to resonate throughout the crowd for a moment, until a girl with black hair dyed with red streaks pointed behind Diana with her mouth forming an 'O'. “Look! Something's happening to Perdido Beach!”

Immediately Diana looked away from the sunset-soaked stone walls of Coates and instead looked in the direction of the town and the ocean. From here, Perdido Beach was nothing more than a tiny speck marked by the lights of the town.

Then came a sudden flash of light and a rumble that could be felt even from here.

Diana felt anxiety blossom in the pit of her stomach as the black cloud began to smother the town.

“I guess we're not going back to Perdido Beach, huh?” Bug said. He'd turned invisible. Not that anyone paid any attention to him.

-

Somehow, in the split second between the explosion and the rush of burning wind, Astrid had managed to clutch Pete tightly to her chest. Later she would wonder if he would have prevented so much damage had she left him in harm's way.

They hit the floor as Mary screamed her brother's name.

Brianna released a slew of words that should never come from a twelve-year-old's mouth.

For a moment, the world seemed to explode with orange-red light. Then came the darkness.

The air was swallowed up in an instant, and all Astrid could do was look at the doors to the town hall. _Either that or perish._

Clutching Pete as tightly as she could, Astrid crawled up the steps in bullet time. She could hear everyone's screams as they seemed to drag out over forever.

She breathed in and was met with a rush of smoke.

Astrid coughed so hard she almost threw up. And still everyone was screaming.

In her fear-fuelled delirium, she wondered if Pete had somehow suspended time. _At this point, anything's possible._

Her hand gripped the handle of the door as her eyes began to sting and the choking began in earnest. _Oh God._

The door moved inward, pulling Astrid and Pete along with it. As soon as she felt the worn carpet beneath her, Astrid rolled to the side and kicked the door shut with as much force as she could muster. She looked out of the glass door and saw the world ending. _No._

Her last sight before she passed out was of everyone staring in terror as the wall of fire descended on them. Brianna's fists were clenched as she looked away from the flames.

“ _JOHN!_ ” Mary howled, followed by a blood curling scream

“Angry,” Pete whispered. Astrid's vision gave out and her head slammed against the carpet. “Different game.”

Oddly enough, she had one more thought before the blackness swallowed her.

_This is the same carpet Sam has in his bedroom._

-

Crayola crayons and smoke.

These were the only things Lana Arwen Lazar could smell right now as she sat by Edilio's bedside. Her hand rested on his bare shoulder. Patrick lay by her side, grumbling in his sleep.

The injuries Edilio had sustained were testing the limits of her powers for certain. She'd barely managed to keep him together long enough for Dahra to remove the bullets lodged all over his body. He'd lost so much blood. It had only been this morning that the colour had started to return to his skin.

But then the infection had set in. It didn't help that all they had to work with was a cramped basement filled to the brim with sick and injured kids. _This place would be a doctor's worse nightmare._

Her body ached for another cup of coffee. In the past two days she had almost single-handedly emptied the building of its coffee supply. They had Cookie raiding the town hall offices for any caffeinated beverages he could find. The pot was currently brewing some vile mixture of black coffee and mint tea.

It tasted like ass, but it kept her going.

Before the FAYZ, Lana spent her evenings looking up weird stuff on the internet. One thing that had stuck with her particular was what happened to someone if they didn't sleep. Delusions, hallucinations, madness. Sometimes death.

Death was something she could avoid, but Lana's power could heal everything but the mind. She'd learned that lesson yesterday when trying to help a kid from Coates whose bipolar mediation had run out.

In the end, Dahra had just told the boy's friends to keep a close eye on him as he rode out the manic episode and sent them on their way with a packet of Prozac. It was hardly a priority when kids were bleeding out in front of her.

Lana found it a welcome distraction. Especially considering that since Sam and Caine's disappearance, the Darkness had been screaming in her mind. Not even tempting words, no. Nothing like that. Just the anguished shrieks of a creature in pain. _Either that, or fury._

But she didn't even want to consider the possibility that the Darkness was pissed. Whatever was down in that mineshaft was not something Lana ever wanted to see. Not after the coyotes. Not after Drake's arm.

Not again.

She paused and sniffed the air. There was a definite smell of smoke that was growing stronger with every second. Patrick whined as he leaped to his feet, alert and ready to defend her from any potential threats.

“You smell that too?” asked a boy that sat on the other side of Edlio's bed, armed with a sketchbook, pencils, and crayons that reeked of preschool. His name was Roger, and he'd volunteered to help out as best he could following the showdown the other day. At present, he could barely do more than hand out painkillers, but he had a talent for drawing, and sometimes a pretty picture was all it took to stop a pile of wailing littles.

“Yeah. Smoke,” Lana replied. The hand pressed against Edilio began to ache; swiftly, she switched over, wiping the blood on her jeans. “I swear to God that if some kids are playing with fire I will make them wait before healing them.”

“So long as that doesn't mean I have to waste precious supplies to keep them happy,” Roger retorted.

“Don't worry, I wouldn't—”

—A blinding pain in her skull.

Without thinking, Lana clasped both hands to her head. Edilio let out a shallow gasp, but she was deaf to this. She was aware of nothing but pain and darkness and a fear greater than anything she had felt before. The kind of fear that made you lose your grip on your bladder.

The Darkness was screaming with such a ferocity that it felt like Lana's brain was melting in her head.

Lana was no longer on the chair. She was moving across the infirmary and was screaming too. Some far-flung corner of her mind was aware enough of this until the thoughts turned to fire.

And then, something happened that made Lana fall to her knees and her blood run cold.

The Darkness spoke to her. Just four words. But these words filled her with such terror that every nerve of her wanted to rush at the FAYZ wall and scream and attack her way out until she was as far away from here as possible.

_The Game must adjust._

-

“You don't have enough water energy for that.”

“Fine. I'll go with Eevee instead.”

Ellen sat at the table in the fire station, lazily watching as a few of the other kids played with _Pokémon_ cards. There were only four of them here tonight; a skeleton staff by any other name.

But with half of Perdido Beach holed up in the infirmary, it was unlikely that there were going to be any major emergencies. _After the past couple days, this calm is more than needed._

“Hey, Ellen. Wanna join?” asked a boy with wild brown hair and a voice that was all over the place. _Gotta love puberty._

“Maybe in a moment,” she replied. She stood up, stretching to remove the stiffness in her joints. “I'll just check the station again.”

“Why? Paranoid that the truck will be gone?” a girl with dark skin and tightly-woven cornrows said. It was meant to be flippant, but it rubbed Ellen the wrong way.

“Drake Merwin is still out there,” she pointed out. “And if he took the truck, it wouldn't be hard for him to burn everything down.”

“Oh no. It's the Big Bad Whip Hand,” the final member of the party, a short boy with thick-rimmed glasses and neat black hair, said. An obnoxious giggle broke from his lips.

“You're all jerks,” Ellen replied as she walked over to the door. “I'll be back in a couple minutes.”

The hallway was dark, but Ellen didn't bother trying to find the light switch. Why waste electricity? _The power plant is great, but it can't last forever._ She didn't like to admit it, but when she was alone, these kinds of details kept her awake at night. _The FAYZ isn't sustainable._

Growing up, Ellen and her family had made no secret of their Native American heritage. Even if they didn't show it, it was always something that had been there. In fact, Ellen herself hadn't paid much attention to it, but more and more often she found her mind drifting to the numerous ways that her ancestors had managed to survive and thrive off the land. _We may have to end civilisation if we're to live._

That thought frightened her deeply. They weren't survivalists with an innate knowledge of self-preservation. They were a town of three hundred kids. _Even with Lana, so many more will die._

It was too early in the evening to be thinking like this.

Ellen opened the door at the end of the hallway and scurried down the stairs. Her hand clutched the railing tightly; she didn't dare let go, especially as the shadows grew larger and the darkness more oppressive. For a split-second Ellen regretted not having anything to defend herself with.

That soon passed once she reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the garage. The fire truck was still there, still in a good condition. The windows at the top of the wall sent beams of fresh moonlight spilling over the red coating, giving it a quality that wouldn't look out of place in an old movie. _Kinda pretty._

Then something covered the window and Ellen was thrown into complete darkness.

“What the hell?” she whispered, spinning around to look up at the window. It was still in one piece, but it seemed as if there was something black covering it. _Cloud?_ She doubted it.

Just as Ellen made a tentative step back towards the stairs, there was an earth-shattering rumble, accompanied by a flash of light and an explosion that lit the entire garage up for a few seconds.

Ellen hit the floor without even thinking, slamming her elbows against the ground. She swore as the pain rushed up her arm, but after a few moments quickly realised that she was still in one piece. That was what mattered.

Until she noticed the red glow coming from up the stairs and the choking stench of smoke.

Fear gripped her like an iron fist and threatened to choke the life out of her. Every instinct screamed at her to run for her life, but Ellen instead stumbled towards the stairs. _The others. They're still up there._

Plagued with confusion and a terrible, terrible feeling, Ellen began to climb. The smoke grew thicker with every step, and before she had even made it halfway up, she had been forced to cover her nose and mouth with her sweater. _Fire. There's fire._

If she could think without the fear and dread, Ellen would have probably let out a sardonic laugh at the irony of the fire station burning down. But not when all she could picture was the image of three kids sitting at a table playing _Pokémon_.

The smoke must have been getting to her head or something, because the next thing Ellen knew, she was opening the door to the break room. As she peered her head through the doorway, time stopped and all she could do was scream.

The entire wall had been destroyed by what looked like a fireball, sending tongues of flame dancing along the rubble and remains up to the roof. The smoke was too thick to see beyond that; all Ellen was aware of was a thick, suffocating blackness and flashes of red and orange that turned her heart to ice.

She had one more clear, coherent thought before everything she held on to turned to hell. _Well. Now I know how Sam Temple felt._

There was a gap in the smoke for only a few seconds. But for Ellen, it was enough for her eyes to focus on where the desk had been. Now, there was only a smouldering pile of timber underneath a ball of flame. And beside that—

—Oh.

Oh Jesus.

No.

Ellen threw up. The microwaved hamburger hit the smoking floor and splashed up her clothes.

She kept her eyes shut. But it was too late. The image of raw, blackened flesh was ingrained in her mind.

All of them. Dead. _My fire crew. I was in charge._

A few feet in front of her, a rush of flame erupted, consuming a tiny body with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses sitting on a face that looked like uncooked meat. Not that Ellen could see it.

Above, a chunk of the ceiling crashed down, decimating where the kitchen had stood. The burning air finally forced Ellen to open her eyes.

Smoke was pouring into her throat, threatening to make her cough out her held breath.

She—

—She had to make a decision.

Stay or go. Live or die.

Filled with a sense of panic like no other, Ellen stumbled out of the room and hurried down the hallway. She took the steps three at a time, tripping every other time she moved.

Her heart was punching against her chest so hard she feared it would burst. There was no point in telling herself to remain calm.

Once she was on the ground. Ellen dared to look back. The flames were snaking along the hallway, poised to leap down the stairs and burn the fire station to the ground.

She frantically looked around. The garage door was wide open, providing a view of Sheridan Avenue in the twilight.

But equally, hung up on the wall was a set of keys.

The fire truck was facing the open garage door. There was gas in the tank.

Ellen could at least save something. _Or die trying._

She didn't have time to deliberate over this choice. Her hands found the keys and ripped them off the wall, and she was running up to the red vehicle.

Ellen's hands trembled as she fit the keys in the door and turned.

Nothing. She'd turned it the wrong way. _Damn it!_

Behind her, the fire was halfway down the stairs. A hysterical sound that was somewhere between a scream and a sob came from Ellen's lips. _Come on come on come on come on!_

There was a click. Ellen yanked at the handle with the strength of a professional wrestler. It swung open with a loud creak that fanned away the increasing heat of the flames.

A spluttered cough ripped its way from Ellen's throat as she climbed into the truck, keys in hand. She slammed the door shut and shoved the keys into the ignition.

This time she got it right on the first time. The engine rumbled to life as thick black clouds pressed against the window. She was hyperventilating now.

Panicking, Ellen gripped the steering wheel and forced her foot on the pedal.

The fire truck crawled forwards, picking up momentum. But not fast enough.

The wind shield was nearly black by now. Ellen reached over to the dashboard and hit as many buttons as possible.

The siren began blaring with enough volume to block out Ellen's terrified noises.

At the same time, the wipers began to move at their maximum speed, clearing just enough that Ellen could see.

The fire was a few feet from the fire truck now.

Ellen floored it.

The siren wailing like a banshee, the fire truck sped down the street.

Ellen screamed in sync until she saw the columns of flame and smoke coming from the town plaza. _Perdido Beach is burning._

She stopped the truck in the middle of the road, opened the window, and breathed in the (relatively) fresh air.

It felt like she was having a never-ending panic attack. The tension and terror was causing a headache to set in.

 _I could stay right here_ , she thought. _I could stay and be safe._

A blood-curling shriek filled the air. By the plaza, a wall of flame erupted, tall enough that it dwarfed even the church tower.

 _No,_ Ellen decided. _I have to help._

 


	8. EIGHT

Lana Arwen Lazar was screaming in the middle of the infirmary as Roger watched from his seat.

It had started without warning: one second she was healing Edilio's wounds, the next she was making the feral cries of an animal in pain. In panic, he had placed his hands over a cluster of bloody holes, but he could feel the red liquid oozing through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be enough.

Dahra Baidoo had abandoned an eight-year-old with a nasty gash along the side of her face once Lana had hit the floor. That was where she currently lay, babbling and convulsing and _oh my God._

Roger looked away. He couldn't cope with the sight of saliva foaming at the edges of Lana's mouth. Even he knew a seizure when he saw one. If the Healer was incapacitated then…

The thought terrified him. So many would die.

“Dahra,” he called out weakly, forcing himself to apply more pressure to Edilio's wounds despite the Honduran boy's cries of protest. “Is she…?”

“I don't know,” Dahra replied as she moved Lana into the recovery position. Her face was pale. “Oh my God, I don't know what to do. I mean, there was a passage on seizures but it said that if things were this bad to call 911 and we don't have that option.” Dahra was trembling as well. Roger could tell; the shakes were slightly quicker than Lana's.

For one brief second Roger looked at the wall-mounted phone and berated himself internally.

Edilio let out a cough and there was blood running down his lips. “Edilio's getting bad,” Roger said futilely. Lana hadn't finished extracting the bullets; there was no telling how many of Edilio's internal organs were still screwed-up.

“I smell fire,” one girl with a bruised face said. Right now all Roger was aware of was his own heartbeat, Lana's convulsions, and the smell of Edilio's blood. But he still forced himself to breath in. It was faint, but the acrid stench was filtering in.

“Someone… Someone should…” Roger trailed off as Edilio began to shake. _No no no no!_

Edilio's brown skin was quickly losing all colour and Roger's hands were stained a deep red. “Oh God!” he shouted. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Above, the entire world shook.

-

It took Brianna just over a split-second to make a decision.

Knowing she had no other choice, she flexed her palms and looked over at the suburbs on the other side of town.

The wall of fire was only a few feet away as she reached out and grabbed Dekka.

Mary screamed, “ _JOHN!_ ” as Brianna carried the first person to safety.

Her muscles burned as she rushed back and forth, carrying each person over as the flames crashed down on the town hall. Her heart was pounding and everything felt like it was in slow motion.

Finally, she returned to the cul-de-sac with Mary as the town hall was enveloped.

She looked over the group and only saw Dekka, Hunter, Elwood and Mary.

“Oh no,” Brianna said. Then she passed out.

-

“Shit! Breeze!”

Elwood watched as Dekka hurried over to where Brianna had collapsed on the asphalt. “Oh God, she's burning up.” Even from where he stood, half-disoriented, Elwood could see the sweat rolling down Brianna's face. “She needs water. Now.”

“There are houses. I'll just—” Hunter said and stopped at the same time that Elwood saw that Mary Terrafino was the only other person here. No sign of Astrid, Little Pete, or John. Mary stood there, staring off into the direction of the fiery eruption. “No.”

“What?” Dekka said, not taking her eyes off of Brianna.

“We have bigger problems than Brianna dehydrating,” Elwood said, feeling the panic rising. “Much bigger problems.”

-

John Terrafino didn't have enough time to feel panic.

It was over in seconds.

One moment he was standing beside Mary, watching as the flames snaked along the oil towards the daycare.

Then came the sudden explosion and the rush of flames and all John knew was a brilliant, all-consuming heat.

The last thing he heard before everything burned away to darkness was a single strangled cry.

“ _JOHN!_ ”

-

“Then the damn moof just straight-up poofed herself and her boyfriend out of there.”

Zil sperry kicked at the couch in the apartment as Lance looked on, nonplussed. Hank and Antoine stood by the window, looking at the latest development. Sure, the world was ending or whatever, but he didn't give a damn. _I could've shot that freak!_

He'd always been told in school that he had anger problems and was susceptible to sudden rages, but the unbridled fury burning inside him was like nothing he had ever felt before. “I want to kill them all,” he said.

“Huh?” Lance said, looking away from the window. Every now and again Zil was struck by how out of place Lance looked compared to the rest of them. Whereas Hank and Antoine were snivelling, pudgy, ugly creatures, Lance was tall and handsome and looked like he would be more at home on the Council than in some apartment that reeked of drugs. A spliff was in Lance's hand. Zil had been too frightened to partake.

“The moofs. Freaks. Chuds,” Zil said, spittle flying from his mouth. “They wrecked my property, arrested me, and I'm the evil one?” He raised his gun and fired a shot into the wall that caused everyone in the room to flinch.

Lance took another hit. “'S not fair,” he said. “Power must be going to their heads or something.”

Zil wasn't aware that Lance was too baked out of his mind to actually be listening to him. “We need to do something,” he said. “Fight back. Let them know that we humans were here first…” He trailed off, looking around for some source of inspiration.

It struck him when he laid his eyes on the Confederate flag hanging from the wall. “We've gotta start a movement,” he said. “Put those freaks in their place. Perdido Beach was built by humans for humans. We can't let them take over.”

“Cool,” Lance said. His eyes were red and a lazy smile was on his face even as the cloud of flame and smoke expanded outwards.

Maybe Zil was aware that fundamentally, there was something wrong with a fourteen-year-old getting stoned as hell, but whatever. These kinds of things were put in place to make the common person oppressed and put down. Like his uncle had said; sure his parents had always said he was offensive, but they were wrong. The man was speaking the truth.

“We've pandered to the anomalies for too long,” Zil said, feeling a jittery rush. “It's time for us to strike back. Human supremacy!”

“Man, I don't know if we'll live that long,” Hank said. “The town's burning.”

Zil's confident smile faltered as the first wisps of smoke caressed the window pane.

-

_Petey, no. Go see Mommy; she'll help you. Window seat. Window seat._

Astrid blinked open her eyes and breathed in smoke.

She let out a spluttering cough and sat up. In front of her were the glass doors that led out to the town plaza. All Astrid could see was blackness. _The fire._

Sweat rolled down her face and she saw a small puddle of bile on the carpet.

Pete stood against the wall, ignoring her. Miraculously, his game had survived the chaos and a faint chiptune could be heard. But there wasn't a scratch on him.

“Petey,” Astrid said in a raspy voice. On shaky legs, she rushed over to him and embraced him. _You're alive. You're okay._

“Different game,” Pete said indifferently.

There was a sudden sharp sound. Astrid turned to face the doors and saw a large crack splintering along the glass. Her heart caught in her throat. _The pressure is going to blow the doors in. We'll be roasted._

Astrid grabbed Pete and looked him directly in the eyes. “Petey, we have to move,” she said. “Come on.” There was a word that her parents used in a lifetime past that prompted him to move, but now Astrid could only think of the rush of burning, toxic air that would claim them and the fact that she was so alone.

Another crack.

“Come on, Petey.” She hated the note of desperation in her voice.

Pete pressed a button on his game. “Angry. In the dark,” he said.

Astrid took a step forward. Pete complied.

Relief flooded through her being until a chip of glass rocketed off the door and buried itself in the wall. A thin stream of black smoke began to filter in.

Astrid clenched Pete's hand and sprinted for the stairs as more and more pieces of glass were obliterated.

They ran along the upstairs hallway, stopping only for Astrid to shut the fire doors, bisecting the room. It created a weak barrier against the inevitable rush of fire, but it would buy them precious seconds.

The temperature was rising at a rate that frightened Astrid, but she couldn't think. She had to get them to safety.

She dared to look behind her. The fibreglass windows of the fire doors were black.

A scream wormed its way out of Astrid's throat.

“Different game,” Pete said.

-

The plaza was nothing more than an expanding black cloud tainted with embers.

Fear lodged itself in Ellen's throat as she sped down the road. The fire truck's sirens were wailing at a volume that almost rivalled the sounds of burning. She could see the anxious faces of kids looking out at her from windows. Her hands were slick with sweat.

The only reason she hadn't turned around and made a break for it was the awareness that both the infirmary and the daycare were in the plaza. _Over half the FAYZ's population could die if I don't do something._

Three people had already died tonight. Ellen didn't want to be responsible for that number increasing.

Another fireball erupted from the cloud and flung itself across the sky. Ellen looked up and watched as it slammed against the horizon. There was a circular flash of pearly grey for a moment before the fire burned out.

She started to cry again as she drew closer to the plaza. Wiping away the tears, she checked the water gauge. Two-thirds full.

A strangled cry of despair almost broke free, but Ellen swallowed hard. She had to remain calm. She had to save the kids. _This shouldn't be happening._

Then, without warning, a wall of black met the windscreen. Without thinking Ellen rolled up the windows and didn't dare breathe as she drove into the burning plaza. It took only a few seconds for the temperature to increase and suddenly her mind was in two places at once.

As Ellen stared into the vast blackness of the plaza, she was seeing the burning forms of her fire crew and smelling the rancid stench of burning flesh and—

Ellen reached into the nearest compartment and pulled out a bottle of water. She gulped until the urge to vomit died. _Calm. Stay calm. You have to stay calm._

Shaking, Ellen took her foot off the accelerator. The truck bumped into something unseen. She prayed it wasn't anything serious. She moved her hand towards the water controls and hit the switch. From the roof of the truck came a jet of water that sliced through the burning air. Droplets ran down the windows and allowed Ellen to see a blurry shape amid the acrid, scorching blackness.

She flipped on the windscreen wipers. Char, soot, embers, and water were pushed away momentarily. Enough for Ellen to see fire through the windows and a familiar logo.

It was the pharmacy. Underneath it was the infirmary. The building was lined with medical supplies that made the difference between life and death.

It was the FAYZ's lifeline. And it was burning.

There was a fire-fighter's jacket and a mask on the seat next to her. No oxygen tank.

It was suicide, but Ellen saw no other way. _I need to keep the fire away from the infirmary at any cost. Even… even if it's…_

She'd never thought of sacrifice before in her life. It just wasn't something you thought about when you were fourteen. Sure, she'd read books and watched movies where characters had sacrificed themselves, but trying to equate it to real life…

She knew she would die if she stepped out of this truck. Her life could be over with in a matter of minutes if she decided so. _I have to, though._

If she didn't save the infirmary, then it wouldn't matter. Everyone would die anyway.

A crack appeared in the windscreen.

Ellen didn't want to be the hero, but she was left with no other choice. _This must be how Sam Temple felt. No wonder he chose to step out._

Trembling, she shrugged on the jacket and zipped it up. There were no pants, and Ellen hoped to God that denim jeans would be defence enough against the heat. _They only need to last until the pharmacy and infirmary are safe._

It was beginning to feel horribly airless in here. Beads of salty water rolled down her face; there was no telling if they were tears or sweat droplets. She felt like she was going to throw up. _Just a little longer, Ellen. Come on._

She took a greedy breath in and placed the mask over her face. There was no oxygen tank to attach the nozzle to, so she just shoved the tube down the jacket.

Ellen reached over and shut off the water and wipers. “Come on. No backing out now. Everyone's counting on you. Save the day no matter what it takes.” She said the words through hiccuping sobs. “Just do it!”

Before she could hesitate again, Ellen pushed open the door and threw herself out into the plaza.

Immediately smoke stung her eyes and her throat burned. But she steadied her stance and began to stagger over to the side of the truck.

There was a crackling explosion from somewhere. Ellen hoped it wasn't the pharmacy.

Her hands were blistering as she opened the side of the fire truck and grabbed the hose. She gave a tentative squeeze of the nozzle. A short blast of water launched itself into the smoke.

There was no way of knowing how much water was left, but she prayed it would be enough to defend the pharmacy. _I cannot let anyone die._

Each breath quickly became stifling and muggy, and the only thing that was saving Ellen from choking was the thin layer of fire-proof fabric between the breathing tube and the deathly air. Beads of sweat evaporated off her face as soon as they formed and the best way she could describe herself was as _dry_.

Ellen kept one hand pressed against the side of the truck to guide her back to the pharmacy. Her head felt light and her hair was dry and brittle. But she didn't stop; she passed by the open door and gasped for air.

Something sharp and burning lodged itself in her throat. Ellen began to choke up charred phlegm from the back of her throat that stuck to the inside of the mask. Panicking, she clenched onto the hosepipe for dear life, knowing that if she dropped it, it would all be over.

Her throat stopped burning but the choking didn't cease; every intake of breath sent another wave of smoke into her lungs. Ellen staggered forward; the nozzle slipped out of her jacket and toxic air flowed freely to the mask without the barrier of the jacket. It trailed behind her, scraping against the arid asphalt.

Ellen threw up. The acidic bile filled the mask and stung against her lips and nose and oh God she couldn't breathe at all. Her heart rattled away under the fire-fighter's jacket and all she could think was, _I'm going to drown in my own vomit._

She had a choice at that moment. She could either ditch the mask and expose her lungs to the deadly air, or she could preserve her lungs with a puke-filled mask.

_If need be, I must sacrifice myself._

The plastic mask dropped to the floor. Exposure to the hot air made the vomit crust along the cracked surface. Everything smelled like puke and her head felt light and dizzy but Ellen forced herself to walk towards the pharmacy as if in a trance.

Blood rushed around her head and the throbbing sound of her heartbeat in her ears deafened her to the rumble of the engine. _Keep going._

She looked up at the front window of the pharmacy. _Aspirin – Half price_ was written on a blackening and curling cardboard sign. Cracks laced the glass and for one moment Ellen wondered if it was too late.

Too much was at stake for that to be true. She couldn't die in vain. Even if it was too late, _she_ had to believe she could still do something.

Ellen placed a hand on the door and _pushed_.

A thick cloud of smoke rushed through the gap, but as Ellen gasped for air she realised it was ever-so-slightly easier to breathe in here. _Not for long. Maybe a minute at most._

The door at the back that led to the basement was still shut. Maybe there was the sound of screaming but Ellen wasn't sure any more. All she could focus on was stopping the fire. Nothing else.

She spied a flame dancing across a bunch of dieting pills and pulled the trigger. The water blasted through the dry air and doused it in a few seconds. Clouds of steam rolled off the ground where stray droplets hit.

In her delirium Ellen wondered what it would be like if she wasn't wearing boots right now.

There was nothing to do for the drugs on the roasting shelves, but she could fight against the blaze that raged above the metal cabinet where the morphine was contained. The skin on her hands began to peel and a dehydration headache was quickly setting in. _You can't stop, Ellen. Save the town. Be the hero._

She washed away the orange flickers from the shelves. Her boots crunched down on a charred pregnancy test. Smoke alarms were screaming and for a brief moment she wondered if 911 had been called. _I'm 911 now._

The world went fuzzy.

Ellen let out a soundless cry as she fell down. The side of her face brushed against the floor and she opened her mouth in what should have been a scream.

She still aimed the hose at the shelf of painkillers even as blackness swallowed her up.

The hose ran out of water three minutes later.

-

_**This is not the game meant to be played.** _

_**Nemesis must be punished.** _

_**END HIM, FILTHY VESSEL.** _

Perdido Beach was a distant idea as Lana floated in a space that wasn't quite real. The words of the Darkness grated against every nerve of her brain and with every passing second, the temptation just to give into madness grew stronger.

There was nothing but darkness all around her, interrupted only by pulsating stabs of horrific green that crackled in her thoughts like terrible, terrible lightning.

Behind her, Lana could sense some kind of light, but if she tried to look, the green lightning would ravage her thoughts and leave her reeling in agony and turmoil. _I am trapped here. Wherever here is._

She was absently aware what this space represented. Amid the shadows, there was a section of blackness that was even darker, as if light itself had never reached it. Or more accurately, she realised, as if any light that drew close enough was utterly obliterated.

_This is the Darkness, or a pretty damn good representation of it._

A word danced across her mind, but she blocked it off the instant she felt its unforgiving touch.

_**Fool. You dare deny my name?** _

The void of darkness seemed to shift. Lana could sense a raw, unbridled fury like no other. Her mind drew the comparison to a child's tantrum, oddly enough.

She knew she had no body in this space, knew that there was nothing physical, but the sensation of a smile danced across the ghost of her lips. Defiance brimmed inside her as the Darkness writhed in rage.

_**This game is forfeit. Nemesis utterly failed. Everything is mine now. Do you not realise it? Do you not understand how fragile you are?** _

Lana sent the projection of two middle fingers in the direction of the Darkness. And then, carefully, carefully, she tilted her head, and—

—the light began to grow in her peripherals, telling her that everything was _right_ and—

_**GAIAPHAGE.** _

—a lightning storm erupted in Lana's thoughts and she lost her grip on this reality as her mind screamed and snapped.

It felt like sinking to the bottom of the ocean as both light and Darkness faded away. She was drowning but it didn't matter.

-

Lana convulsed hard enough that she shot straight up. Her eyes snapped open and the brightness of the infirmary worsened a headache she had only just become aware of.

Her brain felt like it was crackling. Something hovered at the back of her mind, but she wouldn't allow herself to think it. _Couldn't_ allow herself.

She breathed in and the stench of blood was overwhelming. Someone, somewhere, let out a spluttering sob as the infirmary came into focus.

It was a grim tableau of injured, frightened kids. Dahra sat next to Lana, her face contorted in bewildered terror and relief. She saw in slow motion Roger pressing his hands weakly to Edilio's chest, and the slow, gradual pulsation of blood as his skin lost even more colour.

A thin trail of smoke snaked through the scene and that was what told Lana that something was horribly wrong.

“Lana. Oh my God,” Dahra said as she swept her up into a crushing hug. “You're okay. You're alive. Oh my God.” Lana weakly nodded as Dahra began to weep. “What happened to you?”

She tried to think, but her memory felt like shattered fragments. One minute she was talking with Roger as she helped Edilio, and the next—

— _ **YOU THINK YOURSELF STRONG BUT YOU ARE NOTHING BUT WEAK AND INSOLENT—**_

—“I don't know,” Lana said as her brain burned with the crackle of electricity. A sense of terror washed over her like no other and it took everything in her power not to scream.

“Let me stand,” Lana said weakly. “I have to help Edilio.”

Dahra obliged and let go as Lana rose to her feet, feeling utterly devoid of strength. The last time she had felt this weak was when she had been taken to the mineshaft and—

— _ **SEE HOW UTTERLY WEAK YOU ARE, HOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES CAN BE PLUCKED FROM YOUR HEAD. SEE MY DOMINION—**_

—she was so glad she couldn't remember how Drake Merwin had come out of there with a whip for an arm.

Lana wasn't aware she was crying until Patrick had rushed up to her side and let out a whine as he nuzzled against her leg. “Good boy,” she whispered. “Good boy.”

Every eye in the infirmary was on her, with the exception of Edilio and Roger. She saw another pulse of blood drip to the ground and felt cold dread. There was only so much blood Edilio could use before the Healer became useless. _I don't have time to be a mess. Not now._

“Are you sure you're all right?” Dahra asked with wide eyes. Lana breathed in the smell of smoke. It was growing stronger with every second. _Something bad's happening._

“I'm fine, honestly,” Lana said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Besides, if we wait any longer we might lose Edilio.”

Dahra said nothing but looked at her with a mixture of concern and acceptance. _Whatever's wrong, it's not killing me, so it's not the priority. Hell, in the FAYZ, it might never be the priority._

Roger actually began to cry tears of relief when Lana eased herself back into her chair and rested her hands on Edilio's body. Almost immediately the blood stopped to a trickle and Edilio let out a breath that wasn't quite as shallow. _This I can do._

Roger was covered in blood up to his elbows and looked as shell-shocked as those few kids that had been forced to shoot their guns on the night that Sam and Caine stepped out. Lana knew she was staring at the consequences of one moment of weakness.

“He'll be fine,” she said with an uneasy shrug. But it seemed to be the right thing to say; Roger's face relaxed all at once.

From across the room, Dahra let out a single cough.

That was all the warning they got before a wall of smoke burst through the doors. For Lana, the panic didn't set in until she saw the embers tangled up in the blackness. _Fire. And a lot of it._

Kids began to scream as the room filled. Dahra backed up against the wall. Patrick scurried over to Lana's side and began to whine.

Lana was paralysed with indecision as she watched the burning, toxic air swill around the infirmary. It was all too fast, too soon. Things were not meant to fall apart this quickly.

“Oh God,” Roger said as something vile and acrid settled on Lana's tongue. It felt like something distant was wailing in her mind, but she didn't have the time to focus on it.

Patrick tugged on her jacket sleeve, urging her to get away. But she wasn't going anywhere with one hand keeping Edilio alive. “I can't, boy,” she said shakily.

There was a gust of wind that pushed the smoke further forward. Now panic began to pour through Lana's insides. _For this much fire, there has to be…_

She couldn't cope with the image of Perdido Beach burning. That was too much. _How? How did we not realise?_

Stupidly she blamed her episode. That was evacuation time gone down the drain because the Healer decided to throw a seizure. It wasn't her fault, but guilt scratched against the inside of her throat, a trapped canary struggling in its cage.

Lana didn't realise she was touching thin air until the figure tackled her and Roger to the ground.

“Move!”

She stared, mouth agape, as Edilio Escobar leaped out of his bed, caked in blood and paper pale, and threw the two of them to the floor. Seconds later the smoke engulfed the space they had been occupied.

“Edilio,” Roger breathed. “You're okay.”

Edilio forced a smirk through thin lips. “Not dead yet,” he said. The wound glistened with blood but did not bleed.

Lana let out a crazed laugh at the exact moment triumph, terror, and relief collided. “No,” she said. “No, you wouldn't. You're not getting out of here that easily.”

Then the smoke began to lower and the mood died. Patrick lay as flat as possible, human terror painted in his canine eyes.

With a panicked start, Lana realised she had lost sight and sound of Dahra and the kids amid the chaos.

She suddenly found that she couldn't breathe. She looked to Edilio, then to Roger, then to the expanding cloud of smoke.

Something black and burning touched her bare leg.

Then the universe twisted.

 


	9. PETE

It was hot, like when too many people spoke and touched him and his skin turned to fire.

Sister was there, a golden sun blowing ugly lines of panic that became his own.

If Little Pete was capable of feeling fear, this was the closest he had ever been.

Outside was darkness but not Darkness, but it was still bad. It wasn't the game, not at all. Pete knew the game, had seen it played, knew how it ended.

This was not his game.

Words that were scratching shapes came from Sister's mouth, tinged with a pitch that shifted more and more as things around him cracked and broke. He was losing the game. It was turning bad.

Black and orange moved towards him in his body's world. In the other world, away from his bad brain, Pete could see the Darkness moving. Curious anticipation.

He lost the thought when he returned to his body.

“Petey. Window seat, window seat.” Sister was saying the words to pull the body back from a crisis when the volcano inside him exploded, but Pete wasn't the problem. It was the game.

But as Sister grew louder and louder and louder and threatened to overload him, Pete's body had a rare moment of clarity.

The game was not lost, but this was a bad level. A bad savegame.

It was that moment in _Mario_ when he failed the jump and was falling. It was when he took one attack too many in _Pokémon_.

There was only one thing for it.

Reload.

Go back.

Try again.

Pete left his body and looked at the Ball.

It was still a game, and that gave him comfort. But unlike before, he could not see the next levels. Only the old levels. That was enough, though. He could mend it with what he had.

The avatars began to dim as the invisible bars above their heads solidified. That was new. He would think about it later when things were less chaotic.

Pete reached out towards the growing burning dark and _pulled_.

The Darkness tried to retaliate, so it wasn't a clean reload, but the danger was reversing. It was enough.

 _Angry_ , he thought, looking at the Darkness writhing in reverse as an avatar with brilliant shades of light and dark snapped one of the tethers linking her to it.

Then, as the clock moved the other way, _Different game._


	10. NINE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we're finally at the end of the first planned story arc! Two more for this book, and let me tell you, this is nothing compared to what's coming.
> 
> Hover over the scrambled text to decipher if you need it.

Astrid let out a shaky gasp as her stomach dropped. It felt like the floor was pulled out from under her.

One minute the smoke and fire were snaking towards them with a determination she didn't know something inanimate could possess. The next, Little Pete had started to levitate, palms outstretched.

“Angry,” he said with a clarity and awareness that seemed impossible. He spun his head around and looked at her – _looked_ at her. Recognition sparked across his blue eyes. “Diftneref emag.”

Astrid blinked. She opened her mouth to say something, but then everything blurred, like an out-of-focus photograph. She let out a gasp, but it felt all wrong, as if the air in her lungs was backwards.

Then the smoke began to recede. Astrid stared, uncomprehendingly, as it retreated through the shattered windows. The shards of glass on the floor began to vibrate, and then lifted in the air. She could hear clearly as the windows _un_ shattered and saw as the shards came together and the cracks faded away.

_He's rewinding_ , she thought with a thrill of terror. _Pete can control time._

There was another reverse breaking sound. Astrid felt light and dizzy, as if she was spinning at a hundred miles an hour. She tried to stand, but the effort forced her pulse to rush backwards through her.

She felt like she was going to throw up and wondered if that, too, would happen in reverse.

“Yetep,” she said, not entirely surprised at how the words sounded. The stench of smoke was ripped from her lungs and Astrid un-breathed clean air. “Siht gniod uoy era woh, Yetep?”

After that, Astrid opened her mouth in reverse. No point in communicating.

An aura surrounded Pete, a colour Astrid had no name for. Looking at him was like looking at a second light spectrum.

She had never seen such pure power in her life. In this one moment, even creating the FAYZ to prevent a nuclear meltdown paled in comparison.

_This is mastery, dominion over the universe. My brother is a god._

Astrid felt a lurch that told her that she would never again look at her own faith in the same way. What she was witnessing right now was infinitely more divine.

There was a great sucking sound, and Astrid knew that the daycare explosion was undone. Even in this state, part of her realised that the scrapes on her legs from the scramble to safety persisted.

So many questions burned in her mind, smothered by the knowledge that she would never be able to gain answers. Once Pete had finished here, his frightening clarity and awareness would cease to be.

_The avatars will never be able to interact with the Player._

Astrid wondered where that thought came from, but it scrambled in her head as she tried to repeat it.

The shadows encompassed by golden light shortened. Astrid stared as the sun's position reversed. _Impossible_.

No more impossible than anything else she had witnessed these past few weeks.

Pete floated along the length of the hallway, chanting words she could almost recognise. The shadows on the walls seemed to diminish as Pete passed them. He was the light, and the darkness trembled before him.

The wailing of a siren rewound as Astrid finally stood to her feet. She tried to look, but found her gaze transfixed on Little Pete. He was the centre of their universe. She was powerless to look away.

Even as time rippled across her brain and distorted her thoughts, Astrid couldn't help but realise the gravity of the situation. _This isn't like the power plant. This time, everyone will know that this came from one of us._

Then Pete touched her, and it was like bathing in the caress of the sun.

In her mind's eye, Astrid saw the bar system that Diana had used to gauge the powers of everyone in the FAYZ. She remembered the shock when Sam's came out as four bars. The most powerful mutant in the FAYZ.

Pete had ten.

She wanted to recoil and run. She wanted to bow at her little brother's feet. The paralysis that Pete had put her into prevented either action.

The touch of his power was dizzying, like an ocean of molten gold. If shadows existed, they were far beyond here. Bubbles lazily rose up and oozed through to the sky above. It could be real, this place. It could be a representation of a concept too complex for Astrid ever to understand.

Then a pair of hands _pushed_ her. The touch was cautious but heavy-handed. Astrid staggered back into the wall. She barely managed to spin around and put her arms out to break her fall in time.

A few seconds later, time stopped rewinding. Pete stopped glowing and sunk to the floor.

“Petey,” Astrid said. She took a few tentative steps towards her brother, shaking off the effects of the rewind.

“Different game,” he said, and they were standing outside of the town hall. The steps were coated in a paper-thin layer of grey soot that crunched like snow under Astrid's sneakers. The sky above was golden and the sun lazily crawling towards the horizon. They truly had gone back an hour.

For a brief moment, Astrid was overwhelmed by the awe and the beauty and the sheer power of this phenomenon, until she saw the charred body of John Terrafino curled into a ball at the bottom of the stairs.

She forgot about Zil Sperry entirely.

-

He was choking. Horrible, horrible black smoke clouded his vision and entered his lungs. His insides burned. Somewhere nearby, Taylor let out a despairing choke.

For Quinn Gaither, it was as if with every breath, he swallowed more and more of his own death. Thick, burning poison slid down his throat and he knew he was on the verge of keeling over.

Until he wasn't.

It was impossible to describe the sensation of breathing backwards, the way that tainted air sucked out of your lungs and pure air shot in. Or the way that the overwhelming cloud of smoke shrunk and shrunk as it drifted away from you.

Or the way that Taylor rose to her feet in reverse.

“Rolyat,” Quinn un-gasped. “Dog ym ho.”

He didn't care that his words sounded funny. He felt alive.

Taylor let out a rewound rasp and staggered over to him. “Gnineppah s'tahw?”

Quinn didn't listen. He couldn't help but look as fire and smoke and death receded and shadows shortened. If he listened carefully, he thought he could hear the laughter of a child on the reverse wind. He didn't listen for long.

And then the smoke was gone and the sensation was done and it was just him and Taylor standing on a rooftop overlooking the second sunset of the day as it kissed the tip of the golden water.

“It's beautiful,” Taylor said. Her voice caught. “Quinn, I don't know what's gonna happen from now on, but I don't want to face it alone.”

“Me neither,” Quinn mumbled.

Taylor carefully slid her hand into his. Quinn let her. And then, after a few minutes, gently gripped her hand right back.

It was only him, her, and the sunset on the water. For this one moment in time, the rest of the world slipped away and all that met him was simplistic beauty.

-

“Tsirhc Susej!” screamed a girl with blonde braids.

“Hcaeb Odidrep si... si?” whispered a boy that could be Bug, could be anyone.

“Kcuf,” said Diana Ladris simply. From atop the hill that Coates Academy rested upon, they could all see the ember-stained cloud that choked the town against the bruised sky.

They could also see as said cloud shrunk in on itself.

“Driew nmad yllaer gnitteg si siht.”

The experience lasted maybe two minutes, full of reverse words and indescribable sensations and the sight of a town that a few minutes before had been burned to oblivion.

And the sky was golden again.

_Did we go back in time?_ Diana wondered as the other Coates kids recovered from the disorienting experience. _Anything's possible._

She closed her eyes, and breathed.

Instead of the familiar comfort, Diana saw a featureless landscape within a circle that she immediately knew was the FAYZ. All around she could see blank figures standing, or wandering. And above each and every head was a set of bars.

Some had a set of blank bars above their heads. Some one or two filled in, and a couple boasted three. _My power_ , Diana realised with a shock. _Something's changed._

This mental landscape drifted over to where Perdido Beach was. The most three-bars were seen here, and right in the middle of the town, glowing like a beacon, was a figure with ten bars of power. _Little Pete_ , the voice in her head said.

_Nemesis_ , another distant voice growled.

She looked again at the other, lesser avatars. She called them avatars because no other word fit into that slot in her brain. To her surprise but not really, every avatar had ten blank bars above their heads.

The significance of this didn't hit her until Diana watched a two-bar in Perdido Beach suddenly become a three-bar.

_They can change_ , she realised with a mental gasp. _Our powers. We can get stronger._

For one horrific moment, she envisioned the FAYZ overrun with four-bar mutants, let alone ten bars. She wondered if it was even possible for anyone else to get that high.

Then, out of curiosity, Diana looked upon her own avatar. She was completely unsurprised to see three bars glowing neatly above her head. _I've grown stronger._

A hand tapped against her shoulder, dragging Diana out of the landscape that wasn't quite real. “Hey!” a kid shouted. “What are we gonna do now?”

She looked at him. Eleven years old, a one-bar whose power would surely tip over to two bars in the near future. “Now?” Diana said, returning her gaze to Perdido Beach bathed in evening light. It looked like something out of a photograph. “Now, we're going back to Perdido Beach.”

The sight of something that could only be described as divinely reverent convinced a total of twenty-four kids to come down with her.

Nobody above one bar stayed behind.

-

Jack realised he had gone back in time when he re-entered the evening's golden hour and his laptop's battery increased by forty percent.

And the fact that both the computer's clock and his watch had rewound from 21:39 to 20:39.

He tentatively stood up and opened the RV's door. Beyond him was the expanse of the desert that was eventually bisected by the wall of the FAYZ. Drake Merwin had left fifteen minutes from now. Jack had no idea when he would be back, but knew he wouldn't survive if he tried to escape.

A dent appeared in the door despite Jack's best efforts to close it gently. A spike of self-loathing like no other snaked itself down his throat as he returned to the laptop.

And then he saw that all the notes he had taken in the next hour were gone. _No._

The feeling of failure burned through him and pulled tears from his eyes. Too much valuable work was lost. His heart in his throat, Jack checked the video file.

The five seconds of footage showing the moment Andrew vanished were corrupted. _I can't find out how to beat the poof now. Oh God, and if Drake finds out..._

Computer Jack thought about the tearing agony of Drake Merwin's whip and buried his face in his hands. The table splintered beneath him.

-

“Seriously, I'm fine. You two can go check out the damage.”

Edilio smiled bravely but Lana wasn't convinced. The smoke had pulled back but the burn wounds remained. The worst cases had been dealt with, but there still remained children with with small strips of pink, raw flesh.

Patrick rested his head on the bed of a little girl with a face that might scar even with Lana's powers. While her touch could heal the body, his loving licks and nuzzles could heal the mind and soul. She had never been more grateful for his presence than in the past three days. _If you don't count traversing the desert with the coyotes and the—_

_**DO NOT THINK OF IT.** _

She stopped thinking of it.

Roger walked up from the bed of a boy who currently cradled a sketch of something Lana couldn't make out. Roger clapped a hand on Edilio's shoulder and smiled. “Don't worry,” he said. “If he tires himself out too much, I'm sending him back to bed.”

“Whatever you say,” Edilio retorted. “ _Madre._ ”

Roger flushed red. Next to Lana, Dahra let out a mischievous laugh. The laughter seemed to help clear the sudden headache.

“I guess there's not much I can say to convince you not to,” Dahra said with a growing smirk. “So I'll trust Mother Roger to tuck you in bed and kiss you goodnight when you get too tired.”

It was Edilio's turn to blush now. As Roger howled with laughter, Edilio tactically wormed free of his touch. “You still have some painkillers by the towels, right?” he asked, red-faced.

“Yeah,” Dahra said. “There's not much but it should be enough for an hour if you only give them to the ones with really bad problems.”

Edilio nodded and walked over to the far side of the room. Roger followed like an obedient dog.

“Anyway, let's find out about whatever the hell just now was,” Dahra said. Lana followed her through a sea of children that weakly whined “Healer” whenever they got too close. Lana raised her head high and ignored them. _It would be stupid to let them think they can take advantage of me._

Dahra pushed open the spotless pair of doors that had been flooded with smoke not ten minutes ago and stepped out onto the staircase that led up to the pharmacy. Lana followed with caution, looking at the walls. No sign of smoke or embers or burning or _anything._ _Just what the hell happened?_

“I think this is more weird FAYZ crap for sure,” Lana said.

Dahra looked back and nodded grimly. “Sucking back smoke does sound like that,” she said. “I'm just worried that people caught in it before are still injured.”

“If they were exposed to that for more than a few seconds, then there's no way they survived,” Lana replied. “I can't raise the dead.”

Grim silence followed them as they reached the top of the stairs and walked out into the pharmacy.

Up here, the store was immaculate. The windows were whole and clear. The shelves and aisles were remarkably uncharred.

The only thing that signified that there had even been an issue was a figure in a fire-fighter's jacket lying face-down with a slowly dripping hose near the doorway. Lana and Dahra approached with caution.

“It's Ellen,” Dahra said, kneeling down to touch her. “From the firehouse.”

And Lana realised. _She saved the store from burning._ An image of the reality where the fire didn't cease danced across the shadows of her mind. No medicine, no buildings. No Perdido Beach. Just burning and chaos and starvation and suffering.

“She would have saved the pharmacy,” Lana said, noticing droplets of water on the shelves. “She risked her life for this.”

“She's still breathing,” Dahra said. She turned Ellen over and looked at her soot-streaked face. “We'd need to rinse her down before we can see the damage for sure.”

Lana drew closer and heard shallow breaths. It sounded like something was caught in Ellen's lungs. She wasn't sure. Carefully, she bent down and wiped a little bit of the soot off her face. Ellen winced and made a pained sound. Terrible red blisters marred Ellen's light brown skin. Her black hair felt like brittle straw and her lips were cracked and dry. “Dehydration will kill her before the burns do,” Lana said, placing a hand on Ellen's cheek. She whimpered again, but her face softened as the blisters faded away. “Help me carry her down.”

Dahra carefully wrapped her arms around Ellen's lower half and gently lifted her into the air. Lana grabbed her torso with a little more force, but Ellen relaxed as burns and blisters beneath her clothes faded away. “Damn,” Dahra said. “She risked her life to save the pharmacy from burning? If there was ever a hero in my life, it's her.”

Lana smiled and felt like saying _fuck you_ to someone, but when she thought about it, her mind drew a blank.

-

Mary couldn't help but think about how small Brianna looked in Dekka's arms. She'd always thought of the Breeze as some force of nature, something invulnerable. Now, she looked like a child resting in the evening sunlight. Just as frail as one of the littles.

She didn't want to think about the littles right now. She could still clearly see the moment that Kevin beckoned Mera to set him ablaze. A wave of nausea that for once had nothing to do with food racked her stomach.

Kevin had had an older sister John's age. The family had lived out of town, but had sent Kevin to the daycare here for reasons unknown. Mary wanted to throw up again as she realised they had no clue what happened to him. _He was only three._

So many other littles had vanished into the chaos. She knew not all them would have managed to shelter from the smoke and flames in time. She knew there would be tiny charred bodies in the streets.

“It's weird,” Elwood said, touching the side of a building. “The streets are clean. Like the smoke wasn't pulled back, but it never happened.”

Dekka nodded stoically in response, but focused more on the way that sweat beaded on Brianna's head.

Mary let out a breath that very nearly became a sob. Hunter placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. “Don't worry,” he said. In her mind, all Mary could see was Brianna pulling her away from John as the wall of burning smoke descended on them.

_He has to be fine. If Little Pete can survive, so can he._ She knew Pete was alive because when the smoke pulled back she saw an image of him floating in a hallway with Astrid standing beside him. Maybe he'd done it; if a baby could burn like a sun, was it really a stretch for a five-year-old to undo an explosion?

There was a fire truck by the plaza. A hose led into the pharmacy that housed the infirmary.

“Wonder what happened,” Hunter said. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets that Mary recognised as a nervous gesture. She did it when she was desperately trying to fight the urge to binge but knew that it was ultimately futile and she would give in and raid the refrigerator for—

Mary let out a shaky breath. She didn't need to eat right now. It was just nerves. She tried to think about Mera burning Kevin to oblivion but it only made the craving worse.

She conjured the image of John sleeping in the daycare and felt a little better.

Brianna made a weak noise in Dekka's arms. Dekka stopped for a moment, but kept going once Brianna's eyes fluttered shut.

A sense of weariness followed Mary as well, but too many thoughts rattled around her head. She had to find out if the daycare was all right. She had to find out how many littles survived.

She had to know if John was still alive.

They drew up to the town hall. Astrid stood at the bottom of the steps holding Pete's hand. A thin layer of snow-like ash coated the plaza despite the warmth to the air. Pete was staring at his Gameboy, playing with one hand. Astrid was looking at something on the steps but turned around at the sound of others.

When her eyes met Mary's, Astrid's face softened. _No. Oh, please, no._

“Mary,” Astrid said weakly. Her face said it all.

Mary's heart hammered in desperation as she pushed past Hunter, past Brianna and Dekka, up to the town hall. Astrid tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but Mary knocked past it. An acidic flame burned inside her stomach and she knew, she _knew_ , but she had to see for herself, couldn't believe it until the irrefutable evidence was in front of her eyes.

Surprisingly, when her eyes finally rested on the blackened figure coated in ash, her first words were, “We can get him to Lana, right?”

When silence greeted her, the tears sprung free and Mary began to weep. She sunk to her knees and with tender hands cradled what had once been John Terrafino.

On instinct, her hands went to push the curls of hair that always landed on his face away, but saw that there was no hair and no face. There was just a blackened shape that suggested a head. She didn't look at the rest of the body.

Ten seconds later, Mary Terrafino howled with grief, a wounded animal in mourning.

-

The air was pure again and it was sunset again and everyone's attention was on him again.

But this time, it wasn't Astrid looking down on him with righteous scorn, it was Hank and Antoine and Lance looking at him with reverence and respect.

For the first time in his life, Zil Sperry felt powerful.

“Okay, so, not dead,” Lance muttered. He'd kind of sobered up. Kind of. “That's a thing that happened.”

“Probably some moof or something wanting to save their ass,” Zil said. He didn't want to linger on the sight of the roaring black cloud pressing up against the apartment. He didn't. “Doesn't matter.”

“But I mean, to do that?” Antoine said. “Isn't that, like, major powerful?”

“Who gives a crap,” Zil retorted. An irritation headache danced along the peripherals of his brain. He raised a hand to massage his temple. “So we have a smoke-sucker. Pretty sure that's half the kids in town anyway.”

Hank laughed. Zil decided he was his favourite person for the moment. Luckily, Hank's laugh was contagious, and soon Lance and Antoine were laughing as well and Zil's ego soaked it up.

“Besides,” he continued. “Sure, a moof might have stopped the smoke, but another one caused it.” They didn't know either way on that front, but he was going to _make them_ believe it. “They're dangerous freaks who think they've got all the entitlement and privileges in the world.” He'd picked those words up from Astrid, moof-sympathiser, and hoped he was using them correctly. But from looking at his audience, he had an inkling that only Lance might know those words.

A tinge of inferiority coloured his vision for a moment. Zil had to tell himself that Lance was enraptured with _him_ , was looking up to _him_ , admired _him._ _I am better than Lance. Get that in your stupid head._

Lance looked up at him and smiled lazily through languid blue eyes. Zil elected to focus his attention on Antoine. “I think the important thing here is to realise that the freaks are _dangerous_ ,” he said. “They'll only do this again in the future, only worse.”

“They're gonna kill us all,” Hank chimed in.

“Exactly,” Zil said. He stood a little straighter. “So we gotta get them out of here before it happens.” He breathed deeply. “Even though the freaks have powers, there are more humans than them. If all the humans come together and take them on, we'll have to win. We'll make Perdido Beach a safe place for _humans_ once again.”

“Hell yes,” Antoine said. “We were here first. They can't come in and take over just because they can make light from their asses or whatever.”

Lance laughed. A choked noise lodged itself in Zil's throat. “We need to make it, like, a movement,” Lance said. His voice was deeper than Antoine's and Hank's, who sounded like scratchy chickens in a puberty blender, and infinitely more pleasant to listen to. “Solidarity, man. Perdido Beach for humans, a… a… squad for humans.”

“Team human?” Hank offered.

Lance shook his head. “Nah, nah,” he said, and Zil only just noticed the freshly-rolled joint burning in the ashtray next to him. “It's gotta be catchier. Something everyone will remember without it sounding retarded. Like, uh, the human…” He trailed off, staring pensively into nothing. Zil felt naked when looking into the intensely vacant stare.

Then, Lance bolted upright as if holding the secrets of the universe in his head. “The Human Crew!” he announced. Hank and Antoine smiled appreciatively.

Zil mulled it over in his head. _Human Crew. Yeah, that works._ It was simple but memorable. He envisioned a Perdido Beach where the words _Human Crew_ were written on every surface. It sounded violent and powerful, and more importantly, it was humans only. No moofs.

“Yeah,” Zil said. “We're the Human Crew. A group for humans only. Those dirty… _chuds_ won't know what hit them.” He turned to Lance and smiled and ignored the sweat beading on his palms. “Awesome name man. I owe you.”

“Owe me nothing. It's the least I can do for the effort.” Lance smiled and sighed and it was as if he was emanating easygoing vibes. Of course, it was probably the weed doing it, but Zil still let himself be swayed.

Lance grabbed the joint, took a drag, and handed it to Zil. “To the Human Crew?” he said with a movie star's smile.

Zil took the joint and didn't break eye contact. “To the Human Crew.” He puffed in and managed not to cough.

Hank and Antoine were chattering excitedly about means of defeating the freaks, Zil's mind filled with images of himself standing as the leader of a human-only Perdido Beach, and Lance looked at him like he was the most important person in the universe.

Life was good.

-

The boy with the whip knelt in front of its glorious mass and looked up with reverent, glossy eyes. “I heard your call, Darkness,” he said in the same way a person might talk to one of their imagined gods.

If the Gaiaphage were capable of of feeling smug joy, it would be feeling it right now.

The boy rested his whip on an ephemeral green stone of the Gaiaphage's making and ripped open a gateway into his own mind. The Gaiaphage sent a probing tentacle with eyes and took in a landscape composed of millions of pathways made of cracked glass that threatened to shatter into true insanity.

The Gaiaphage let the boy's mind remain whole for the moment. It still had use for him.

It did, however, leave streaks of thick, black oil tinged with a soft green glow to make his loyalty absolute. In some places, the oil remained as puddles marring the pathways. In the areas where the desire to cause pain and suffering and to dominate rested, the oil was absorbed into the fabric of his mind and strengthened the urges.

The boy would make a good weapon. He would be perfect to use for the Gaiaphage's new plan.

The Gaiaphage retreated from his mind and set its vision on the very human figure in front of it. If the Gaiaphage wanted to, it could possess his body here and now.

But no. Not when there were seeds planted in the thoughts of the one who dared to defy it and not when Nemesis had unwittingly unveiled the Ball's new Game.

Oh, how the design was so simplistic yet so intricate, so unlike the physical brain that Nemesis suffered within. There were rules to this new Game, so many new rules, but the Gaiaphage was learning. And once it knew the rules for itself, could twist them to suit its designs, Nemesis would be nothing.

Or maybe the Gaiaphage would keep Nemesis alive for a while and let him feel that crushingly human despair as the Gaiaphage utterly ravished the planet. It would see how it felt when it was done.

“Is… is there something you require from me?” the boy asked. The Gaiaphage sent razors into his brain for the insolence. He screamed and screamed and the Gaiaphage felt pleasure.

_**Yes. Nemesis has revealed to us his Game at last. You are to be my avatar for this stage.** _

The boy nodded, overcome with an agony like no other. The Gaiaphage made it worse, just because. It yielded only after liquid urea touched its glowing form and produced an unpleasant steam. The boy babbled and babbled like his sense of self was crumbling.

The Gaiaphage rooted through his mind. No pathways had broken. It hoped this wasn't a sign the boy was weaker than it thought.

“Yes… yes!” the boy cried in rapture. The Gaiaphage enveloped him in warm green particles that made him bark out laughing howls like the talking beasts of the desert. Its vision turned from the cave and to the Game.

It saw Nemesis on the far side of the Ball playing with avatars like puppets made of glass. It saw him tentatively touching the bars above the avatars, curious but careful.

The Gaiaphage had no need for such finesse. It simply carved a space above the boy's head and forced the empty bars into existence. For now, his power was dormant. But that would soon change.

It glanced across the Ball, to the avatar with three bars and knew that this would soon spill over to four. The Gaiaphage forced the image onto the boy. He laughed and screamed in joyous rapture.

_**This is your target. Bring them to me when I say.** _

For good measure, the Gaiaphage latched a few hooks into the avatar's mind. They twitched, but would only think of it as the first onset of a mild headache, unaware of the black hooks that buried deeper with every second.

It never hurt to be prepared.


	11. THE DOME

**PERDIDO BEACH ANOMALY: RUNNING OUT OF TIME?**

By Erin Alexanders

November 24

Yesterday, at approximately 8:39 PM local time, the dome surrounding the small Californian town of Perdido Beach exhibited an anomaly that almost rivals its very inception.

The dome, which materialised on November 9, two weeks ago, has remained as an impenetrable force despite the US government's best efforts. This has proven to be the case despite the growth in interest following the appearance of twin teenagers on their fifteenth birthday a few days prior. An interview was granted, but the families have demanded privacy and anonymity.

“It was like a nightmare,” one twin told us. “We tried so hard to keep things together, to stop everything from falling apart. I don't know how bad things are in there now. It's only gonna get worse. They're only kids.”

The other twin refused to comment.

When faced with confirmation that the children of the town are indeed trapped within the dome, Doctor Amelia Singh, leader of the scientific research efforts, remained cautiously optimistic. “It's a relief to know that we're fighting for something,” she said. “But there are still so many mysteries surrounding the dome that we need to crack.”

The latest and greatest mystery concerns what can only be described as a temporal anomaly: within a two-mile radius of the dome, people experienced a sensation as if the world were turning, only to find themselves an hour in the past.

“It wasn't like jet-lag or suddenly finding yourself in a different timezone,” commented Lauren Terrafino, mother of two Perdido Beach children. “All our technology jumped back. Work was undone, TV shows restarted. Even food you'd eaten earlier was suddenly fresh in the fridge again.”

Other residents of the temporary housing by the dome also reported similar effects. Richard Ellison, 40, was driving his car at the time of the anomaly and received a broken leg as a result of the disruption. He is in a stable condition.

“All at once the car drove backwards without my control,” he explained. “I tried to keep driving, but ended up flying straight into a wall. It could have been a lot worse.” Ellison has two children inside the dome: Astrid, age 14, and Peter, who is only five years old and suffers from a severe form of autism.

“It's not impossible,” Dr Singh remarked. “If the dome could seemingly will itself into existence, then a temporal disruption could be possible. It would explain the lost data from our researchers that managed to repeat itself somehow.”

When asked about the rumours that some of the children inside could have mutated powers, she remained silent.


	12. TEN

Thanksgiving started with the funerals. The three kids dead at Zil's hand, twelve littles, a ten-year-old girl who hadn't been fast enough, Ellen's fire crew, and John Terrafino.

Only the older brother of one of the littles and Mary spoke on the behalf of the deceased. Ellen had barely recovered her strength after her heroic feats and was hardly in the right state. Astrid stood politely on the sidelines and after Mary choked out an incoherent eulogy, offered open arms for her to cry into.

“He was my _brother_ ,” Mary whispered in a broken voice. Astrid said nothing and only tightened the hug until the other girl's shuddering stopped.

Her mind whirred with questions and worries. Not many people seemed to have realised it, but the night of the fire had changed things in big ways. And that was without dealing with the fallout from that evening.

She ran through her mental check-list of problems that needed addressing. The first was, of course, arranging the new council. Edilio had recovered and would accept the position of mayor after the meal, but they still needed to pick more Coates representatives and make sure that everyone was happy with the proposition. At least people seemed to trust Edilio more instinctively than they ever had with Sam or Caine.

Then there was the issue of Zil Sperry, wherever he had scuttled off to. Harry, Hunter's housemate, had said Zil hadn't come back there. A couple of kids had reported seeing him by the apartment blocks with a couple of older kids, but he was long gone.

This morning, the words _HUMAN CREW_ had been sprawled outside the daycare. She hated what this would grow into if they didn't solve the problem.

The only good news was that Lana had healed all the kids in the infirmary, freeing her up. The immediate crisis was over but there was no telling when things would erupt next.

“These past few days have been nothing but tragedies,” Edilio said as he stood by the open grave. They'd found a suit in one of the houses that was only a size or so too big. But he still managed to make it work. “That cannot continue. Thanksgiving is a time of peace, and I hope to see this peace continue.”

As motivational speeches went, it wasn't the most profound or original, but it was doing its job. Most of the younger kids were captivated, but Astrid hated how many of them still wore sceptical looks. It would only get worse.

“Albert has cooked off a bunch of food over at the McDonald's,” Edilio said. When a kid raised their hand, he said, “And yes, that does include McNuggets.”

The council had spent hours arguing about whether or not to use up a large portion of their food supplies. Even Albert had doubted it, but he'd been the one to convince them to use it as a morale booster.

“We'll start taking inventory in a few days,” he had said. “Let's give everyone a little peace just for now.” Astrid hoped they'd get that much. She might have prayed for it, but Pete had shaken something deep within her core. Her whole faith felt unbalanced after seeing her own brother toy with time like it was a plaything.

Mary sobbed again and Astrid told herself now wasn't the time or place to worry.

-

Quinn didn't attend the Thanksgiving feast. Taylor had bounced in, taken a bunch of food, and popped back.

Unloaded on Sam Temple's dining table were a couple of turkey drumsticks, a few slices of microwave pizza, some kind of soya meat, and a pile of McDonald's fries. As feasts went, it was pretty disjointed, but the whole FAYZ was disjointed.

There were more beer cans in the fridge. So far, Quinn had managed to ignore it, but every now and then he wished he could feel light and happy again for just a moment. But this was usually accompanied by a mental image of the monstrous Orc, who'd buried himself in a basement somewhere with hard liquor as he wallowed in self pity.

Quinn had tried arguing to himself that guilt and self pity were different, but he couldn't help but see the similarities.

“Lot of food,” he said. The wall in front of him had been full of photographs of Sam and his mom. He'd taken them down last night. “Woulda thought the council would have it on lockdown.”

Taylor shrugged between mouthfuls of fries. “Food is the only thing keeping most of the kids happy,” she said. “And, I might have taken more than the standard portion.”

“Huh,” Quinn said. He took a bite out of the drumstick. “Find anything out about the funeral?”

“No.”

Part of him hated shying away from the rest of the town and wallowing in shame, but a dark voice in his head urged him to shut himself away forever. Even now he sometimes caught himself remembering the feel of the gun in his hands in vivid detail. His nightmares were all muddled up as well; mostly he relived that night, but it was Sam he shot and killed. He knew that wasn't the truth, but it _felt_ real.

He hadn't really discussed this with Taylor, who was still reeling over having almost killed Edilio. At least her mood had picked up a little after Edilio recovered and took his place as mayor. Quinn wished he could do the same; all he had was his own belief that Sam made it out okay. Maybe he was with his mom and they were celebrating Thanksgiving together like the FAYZ was all a bad dream.

An acidic feeling crawled up his throat, as it always did when he tried to delude himself that everything was fine.

“I did hear something, though,” Taylor said. She'd been sleeping in Connie Temple's room; Quinn had taken the couch because he couldn't bear to sleep in the bed of his best friend, and he still couldn't bring himself to go back to his house. He couldn't let reality destroy the perfect image he had in his mind. He wasn't ready yet. “The little asshole Zil's still around. Apparently he's started some mutant-hating group called the Human Crew or whatever.”

“More violence, huh.” He chewed and swallowed and hated how wrong it all felt.

“They're mostly just spraying bullshit graffiti,” Taylor explained. “You know, _death to chuds_ or something. We're not quite looking at the second coming of the Nazis.” There was an unspoken _yet_ that made Quinn's stomach feel uneasy.

“Sucks we're finding this out after everyone else,” he said.

Taylor blinked. “You want to go back to being part of all this right now?” He shook his head. “Me neither.”

They finished eating with nothing but silence and each other for company. The ghost of Sam Temple hovered somewhere nearby.

-

Patrick whined softly as he slipped in the surf. Lana shook her head softly and smiled. “Stupid dog.”

Of course, he didn't understand, and bounded up to her, all enthusiasm and unconditional love. She scratched the back of his neck as she stared out at the still ocean. The sun was rising, and even though it was the end of November it was still warm. Lana couldn't tell if it was due to the FAYZ or just the southern Californian climate. _Maybe both._

She'd headed down to the beach while everyone else ate to give herself a few moments of privacy. At least the injuries had settled down; Ellen had been the last major healing job.

That evening was still kind of a blur in Lana's head. She remembered the smoke and fire and feeling a great power, but everything else was fuzzy. Roger and Dahra had told her how she'd blacked out, but she couldn't really remember it.

She also had the sense that she was forgetting something else. Part of her felt it was important, but the rest of her dismissed it as insignificant under the argument that she wouldn't forget it if it was something important.

Across the water, Lana could make out the faint shapes of the islands off the coast. The other night, she could have sworn she had seen lights from her Clifftop room. She wondered what was there. _Survivors?_

If so, they had the right idea staying the hell away from Perdido Beach. It was just one endless stream of _powers_ this and _Healer_ that. Nothing had ever been so exhausting and unrewarding in her life.

Even though the physical drama had ended, Lana knew that there would be some kind of political drama next. Between a shaky democracy of teenagers and an extremist hate group, it was a powder keg waiting to happen. There would eventually be wounds even her touch couldn't heal.

Cookie had volunteered to look after the infirmary while Lana cleared her head and Dahra attended the feast, so she felt a little less guilty about watching Patrick bound about in the water without a care in the world. _Maybe I should relax, too._

She closed her eyes and saw darkness.

-

The feast was going smoothly. Kids mostly sat with friends and siblings and ate solemnly. There had been a food fight at one point but stern glances from Edilio had soon calmed things down. Nobody went without, even when you factored in the four missing portions.

Astrid sat with the rest of the council on a table just outside the McDonald's. Brianna and Hunter had joined them, but nobody really objected. Dahra sat with Elwood, looking more tired than any fourteen-year-old should be.

“Where's Roger?” Edilio had asked initially once Dahra joined them.

“Helping to reign in the littles,” Dahra replied. “While we sort the daycare situation out he's trying to keep the peace.” Astrid didn't fail to notice Mary wince when Dahra said that.

Mary was mostly listless and ate very little. It was understandable, and it was more than enough that she had managed to show up at all. Quinn, Taylor, Howard, and Orc were all absent from the feast. Howard had come earlier to take some food for Orc back to wherever they were staying, and Astrid and Albert were fairly certain Taylor had stolen the food. Astrid also had an inkling about where she and Quinn were staying, but had elected to remain silent for the moment. It was better to let them come to terms with things on their own.

Pete sat on the ground by them with his Gameboy. He'd kind of chewed through half a hash brown but he was too lost in his game. He was quiet, though, which was a bonus. Astrid didn't dare hope for more.

“What now?” she said aloud. Diana, who sat directly across from her, raised an eyebrow. She'd managed to bring back about half of the kids who stayed at Coates with her and there hadn't been any conflict just yet. In fact, the Coates kids were more than willing to help out.

There was also the issue that Diana kept giving Pete wary looks every now and then. Astrid had tried to read her expression, but it was inscrutable.

“Uh, unless you mean 'what's the next pleasant, relaxing, peaceful activity' I'm gonna have to remind you of what Albert and Edilio said,” Diana drawled. She fleetingly glanced at Pete again. “We can worry about all this council crap tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we should all relax,” Dekka added. “Things aren't gonna get any easier. We might as well make the most of it.”

Edilio seemed to read Astrid's thoughts before she even conceptualised them. “There's not much we can do for Jack right now. We don't know where he is, and if he's guarded by Drake then it'll be dangerous.”

Astrid thought of the note like a knife to her chest. She could still perfectly conjure the sting of failure she felt upon reading Drake's scrawl. Faced with a difficult choice, she had made a decision. She had no idea if it was right or not. _Would the town have burned if we'd focused on Drake from the start?_

This was a vicious thought pattern that needed to stop.

“I could at least scout out and try to find where they are,” Brianna offered. Dekka gave her a weary look. “Hey. In and out in the blink of an eye.”

“And if he's anticipating it?” Dekka said. “We know he watched you develop your powers from start to finish, Breeze; there's a reason why you were one of the last to be plastered.” Immediately after, she shook her head. “I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I just think it's stupid to rush into danger like that.”

“But what can Jack _do_?” Brianna stressed.

Diana let out a sigh. “You don't know yet?” she said. “Jack's got the power. A three-bar. Strength.”

“Strength?” Dahra asked.

“Yeah, like the Hulk,” Diana continued. “I've seen him in action; he can rip a door of its hinges with ease. He's easily stronger than Orc, but he just refuses to acknowledge it because it goes against his nerd image or whatever.”

“Oh,” Brianna said.

“Different game,” Pete said. Diana's eyes widened ever so slightly.

“I think the real question here is if Jack's willing to use the power to his advantage,” Astrid said. “If he's had his power for a while, he's been so meek that you wouldn't expect it.” Super strength seemed so at odds with a boy obsessed with technology and still enamoured with the magic of _Harry Potter_.

“He'd better get over himself,” Dekka said. “It might be his only way to survive until we can help him.”

“Different game,” Pete repeated.

“Petey,” Astrid said softly. _Not now._ She looked at her brother's face instead of the way that Diana's breath hitched. She made a mental note to speak to the girl from Coates after the meal.

“This is getting depressing fast,” Elwood said. “We can do all this planning later. For now, can we just eat?”

It was a proposition nobody objected to. Astrid kept quite as she ate, but her mind stormed with burdened thoughts.

-

“Happy _fucking_ Thanksgiving.”

_Smash._

“Jesus! Orc, dude, there are only so many plates. I want to make it to the new year at _least_ before I have to eat with my hands like a savage.”

Howard was scrambling to pick up the shards of china. Orc watched with half-lidded eyes as he downed another can of beer. It took him maybe five seconds to finish it, and the drink ran through him. Piss would do a better job of getting him wasted.

It was this fucking stone body. He swore it absorbed half the booze before it could do anything. He slammed a stony hand against his stomach, half praying it would just shatter.

(There was a girl. She was only nine or so, a burned thing on their doorstep.)

It didn't. Orc was convinced nothing could destroy the stone. It moved and breathed and was now a part of him.

This made him think in ways he didn't want to. Two more cans down the hatch. The cans were ground to dust under his grip.

There was a draft in the basement. He could only feel it through the sliver of soft flesh on his face, the one part of him stubbornly staying human in the face of it all. Something welled up inside him and for a moment he thought he was going to cry.

Orc instead bent over and threw up. Chunks of food, booze, and gravel splashed everywhere, on the walls, on him. He didn't care.

“Dude…” Howard said, but it was soft. Sad.

“Get the fuck out,” Orc snapped. He didn't need Howard's pity. He didn't need anyone's pity.

(There was Bette, innocent and broken because she could glow.)

Howard crept out of the basement, shut the door, and only once he was alone did salty rivulets slide through Orc's stone ridges.

-

It was like a drug. As dumb a cliché as it was, Diana couldn't describe it in any other way.

Throughout the entirety of the Thanksgiving feast, her eyes had been drawn to Little Pete as he sat on the ground, oblivious. She didn't even need to close her eyes to see the ten bars floating and beaming above his head like a sun.

Addictive reverence. That was the next step. _All hail the cult of Little Pete_ , she thought dryly. It was uncomfortable how easily that image rested in her mind.

Diana closed her eyes and felt another one-bar become a two-bar. Did they know? Did Pete know? Did she know?

It felt like she was standing on the precipice of something, with no telling what would happen if she tumbled off the edge. _I cannot let that happen._

Even after the feast had concluded, Diana found herself still hanging around the plaza. Astrid, Albert, and a few others were helping to clear up and gather the leftovers for storage and Little Pete sat under a bench, listlessly absorbed in his game.

She wasn't staring at him. She wasn't.

Instead she thought of Caine, and his magnetic personality that had drawn too many people into something terrible. She thought of how she had stood at his side as his conquest started and died. She thought of how she had always been a follower. _From a person who thought himself a god to an actual god._

There was a hand on her shoulder. Diana spun around and did _not_ flinch. “What?” she snapped.

“Diana.” It was Astrid. Her face looked weary and a little sad. “You've been looking at Pete all afternoon.”

“I haven't.” He was still under the bench playing his game. Diana's eyes did not flicker over there again.

Astrid sighed. “Don't lie to me, Diana,” she said. “I can tell when someone's staring at Pete, of all people.” A story lay on her lips but Diana had no interest in pursuing those secrets.

“Different game,” Pete said and Diana's head whipped in his direction before she could do anything. Her cheeks burned crimson when she looked at Astrid again.

“Okay, so there's something up,” she said. Astrid's face was carefully blank. Inside, Diana felt a filter fade away. “But you're one to talk. How long do you think you can keep the fact that your brother's the closest thing to a god in this shithole dome?”

Astrid's mask slipped and her face grew uncomfortably pale. “I'm sorry?” she said, swallowing hard.

“Did you forget? I can sense people's power levels, see the bars” Diana said. “And Petey over there's a ten-bar without question.”

Astrid remained still. “How long have you known?” she finally said, a whisper.

“Since whatever happened when the town was burning and then not,” Diana said. “He reached out to us as Coates, us with the power, and pulled us into town.” Something buzzed in her chest and her breath caught in her throat. “I could _feel_ it.”

Astrid was paper-white and all her strength suddenly seemed to fade. “We… I…” She swallowed and glanced in every which way before looking back at Diana. “Does anyone else…?”

“On a subconscious level I think everyone with the power knows that there's a ten-bar,” Diana said. “But there's no way for them to know for sure. Unless, of course, Petey decides to go all God Tier again.”

She felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of Pete floating over the FAYZ with his power rippling off him in palpable waves. A sucker punch of dread soon set her straight. It was like he was in her head, pulling her towards him, asking her to admire, to follow, to serve.

Diana swallowed back the nausea and suddenly wanted to be far away. “Diana?” Astrid asked. “You don't look too good.”

“You're one to talk,” Diana retorted as her stomach flipped. “One person mentions the possibility of God-Pete and your guilt'll give the game away.”

Astrid sighed. “Look, Diana—” She stopped, seemed to reconsider what she was saying. “Nobody can know. Pete doesn't know what he's doing, he… I'm afraid of what'll happen if anyone finds out. We can't let that happen.”

Diana didn't know where the next thought came from, but as soon as it was there, she let out a dry, desperate laugh. “You can't hide a god, Astrid,” she said. “If people don't figure it now, they'll figure it out soon enough.”

In a voice so low that it was nearly silent, Pete whispered, “Darkness.”


End file.
